


If I'm Still Yours

by disgruntledwing



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Damian Wayne, Break Up, Dirty Talk, Eating out, Getting Back Together, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Sex, Post Break Up, Relationship fights, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Tension, Top Dick Grayson, aged up Damian Wayne, as in he is like 16-19 years old, but also you can fit your own preferences, eventual sex i promise, i have my own lewd ones, past Dick Grayson/Raven Roth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledwing/pseuds/disgruntledwing
Summary: When they saw eye to eye, Damian couldn't think of anything in the universe that could pull them apart. But when they looked away even a little, Damian couldn't imagine anything that hurt more.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne
Comments: 84
Kudos: 165





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back at it with some angst. Even if it hurts like a LOT, angst is probably my favorite type of fic because it fucking hurts. it makes it feel so real, and the good is made so much better, that it hits different. so I wanted to write some dickdami angst, which is kinda really hard because then i gotta split them and it's not easy for them to just not be together!! they are in love!! so this is just the start to a hard drawn out visit to paintown, and hopefully I can make it worth it in the end. we'll see! I will update the tags as the story continues, but it will be a slower fic more about angst than sex (at least for awhile) so just a heads up. as always, any comments or thoughts are MORE than welcome, and I would love to see if this hits you in the heart or if it's just me and i weirdly put this out for just me. i wouldnt put it past me. anyways, on w the pain!

\---

“Why the actual _fuck_ did you do that?” Dick snapped, turning to face Damian trailing behind. Damian’s face soured, and he slammed the door to the apartment. The drive home had been silent, the car painfully tense. Dressed in a suit probably more expensive than Dick’s apartment, Damian looked even more deadly when angry. 

“What? Shall I clarify for you? Do you mean how I _laid_ claim to what is rightfully _mine_? Do you seriously think what she did was okay?” Damian threw back, stepping out of his dress shoes. 

“You made a _whole_ scene out of something that meant nothing. You literally know how that would be taken by everyone there. _Bruce_ was there. Do you _always_ have to have no control on your temper?” 

Damian bared his teeth, the artery in his neck bulging worryingly quick. “She fucking _flirted_ with you. Batted her stupidly long eyelashes like some bimbo, while you say only the _best_ of her. As if she wouldn’t take the opportunity to have you in a heartbeat. She did it right in front of me. As if I hold no weight! As if she could _take_ you from me.” Damian ripped off his jacket, throwing it towards the couch. His shoulders tightened, the black collar shirt pulling over his form. 

“It didn’t even mean anything, Damian. We used to date and I doubt she -”

“That clarifies things tremendously, Richard! You used to date? That fucking narrows it down. You’ve fucked half the world and the entire fucking world wants to fuck you! Forgive me for wanting to gouge her eyes out.” 

Dick shut his eyes angrily. “Do you _even_ hear yourself right now? My dating history is not a reflection of who I am or whatever fucking insecure narrative you want to spin. I loved her. I still have love for her, but I am not in love with her. She is _not_ a bitch - are you ten again? Why can’t you just grow up and stop being so wired to blow up at anyone who looks at me?” Dick said tiredly, walking towards the bedroom and unbuttoning his collar shirt. Damian stared after him, emerald eyes blazing. But he kept his mouth shut. When Dick got quiet during fights, it cut deeper, and made Damian’s feet turn into lead. 

The door to their bedroom shut softly, and Damian wished Dick would’ve slammed it. It wasn’t _his_ fault. It was just instinct - it was never something he actively thought about. But when they were at the gala and Raven had laid her hands on Dick’s arm, asking him how he had been, reminiscing about “the good old days,” and biting her lip at him, Damian had lost it. Dick was clearly oblivious, and Damian looked desperately around to see if everyone else saw how disgusting the interaction before them was. But they hadn’t, no, they had smiled, almost as if in _agreement._ Baring his teeth, Damian had cut in between them, telling her that she had her damn chance, and that it was _him_ on Dick’s cock just the previous night, and Dick was _his_. _And well, okay._ Damian could see why that was a little too far - everyone around had been horrified, his father’s face closing off immediately, while Dick’s furious eyes were burning holes in the back of his head. Raven had sneered at him, her eyes briefly glowing red, about to retaliate, before Dick roughly pulled him towards a hallway and they had left early. 

Damian stood still, eyes roving over the apartment they shared together. Everything was _perfect,_ except more recently....They were both so passionate, so _insistent,_ and usually they always had each other’s back through everything. Like two halves of the same mind, they were upset about the same things - already understanding what the other wanted. But recent instances with Dick’s exes made Damian’s insecurity fester, and he even knew he was twisting it in his head. But it was almost like if he _didn’t_ lose it, then Dick wouldn't see that he was his everything, that the even mention of Dick with anyone else was so revoltingly wrong that even the memory needed to be dissuaded from existing. Damian knew that was a little, well, irrational, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it just was not something he should budge on. He knew Dick was only there for him, but it couldn’t stop the feeling that burned in the back of his mind, finding new ways to seep into Damian’s consciousness far more frequently. What if Dick didn’t really know what he wanted? He knew Dick meant it when he said he loved him, that he wanted him forever, but wasn’t that something previous lovers had heard? What made him different? 

Damian walked over to the couch, sitting down, his body tight. This overwhelming anxiety that pulled and pulled until it pushed him to snap over things like that night...it was growing more and more, and Dick’s patience was wearing thin. Dick was far more patient than he was, but he was not without his own temper. When they saw eye to eye, Damian couldn't think of anything in the universe that could pull them apart. But when they looked away even a little, Damian couldn't imagine anything that hurt more. 

\---

Dick hissed, putting more salve his back. The searing pain only lessened barely, and he hated how he already knew he was going to get no sleep despite being bone tired. He sat on the window sill to his and Damian’s bedroom, one leg out and swinging in the cool air. The cool night helped a little, in a grounding sort of way, and Dick was glad that at least whatever went on in his life, the crisp night air would always help clear his mind. 

Damian’s near silent footsteps sounded in the living room, and Dick pointedly looked outside. He was still furious with Damian - he had been dealing with so much shit from Bruce and the rest of the visiting Titans for Damian’s outburst, and he wasn’t sure if Damian even understood why he was so upset. How _embarrassed_ he was, to have Damian snap at Raven so entirely unwarranted, and then to make it even worse, to be so lewdly graphic. The family already was barely used to Dick and Damian’s relatively new relationship, and Dick was in no mood to press the already gray boundaries. Because it wasn’t just immature. It was a reflection of Damian’s possessiveness that he usually appreciated so much - _returned_ it, but it was as if he was ten years old again. It had been years since Damian could pass under the blame for his youth, and Dick was tired of it. Damian had always been exceptionally sensitive to his dating history, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could stress that while he did value his past lovers because they made him who he was, they were not his _one._ Unfortunately, Damian was just as stubborn as Dick, if not more so, and he had been skittish around Dick since that night. Damian upset was a more peculiar thing than Dick had initially realized. He had always known of his temper, and his desperate need to be accepted, but it wasn’t until they had made it official did Dick really see the colossal depth of insecurity Damian hid. He knew that Damian must feel bad about that night, but clearly not enough, and probably not for the right reason. Because taking ownership, taking _blame,_ when Dick knew Damian felt like he was still right, was impossible for Damian. Damian had once told him it was like his throat closed up before he could apologize, like his body wouldn’t let him do it, as if he was so prideful, so _convinced_ that he was right, that he physically couldn’t do it. Dick saw that happen most with Damian arguing with Bruce, but lately, he could tell that it was starting to apply to Dick too. About smaller things, Dick had always been an exception, and Damian would shut rest of the world out, and swallow his pride for Dick. But _this_ insecurity concerning Dick - Dick was the first one shut out, and so there was nothing that could reach Damian. Usually, Dick wouldn’t mind trying to work around that, and find ways to coax Damian out to really talk about it, but it had been happening so frequently, for such stupid reasons, that Dick had been tired of it for awhile. 

Damian entered the bedroom slowly, emerald eyes scanning for Dick, who was still looking away. His lean body was dressed in perfectly fitting slacks and a dark turtleneck, and his arms were behind his back as if holding something. His hair was slicked back even more than usual; he had taken even more care than usual with his appearance. Dick continued with the dressing of his back wound, reaching for the bandages with long fingers. 

“Allow me. It is foolish to strain yourself further.” Damian’s quiet voice filled the room. Dick grit his teeth, knowing that he hadn’t actually said anything antagonistic, but when he was upset with Damian, he could go well without Damian’s constant sharp tongue. 

“No. I’m doing it.” Dick answered gruffly, turning his body fully to face out the window. The curtains fluttered with the Bludhaven wind, and Dick pulled the bandage around his shoulder awkwardly. It really would be easier with another person, but that was besides the point. Damian stood stiffly, his fists clenching behind him. 

“You are upset at me.” 

“Son of the world’s best detective and it shows. Of course I am. You don’t ever think about how your temper affects other people. How _I_ have been the one to bear the brunt of your outburst. Do you even realize how precarious our relationship with the family already is? You’re so wildly convinced that anyone who even looks at me is going to steal me away, and it all comes down to you just don’t trust me. Of course that fucking makes me upset. And I’m getting really fucking tired of it.” Dick growled, his head pounding. He wasn’t interested in debating semantics, he just wanted to _say_ it, wanted to get it through Damian’s thick skull for once. 

Damian bristled, frowning. “Is this still about - ? She was _flirting_ with you, Richard. You’ve been with her, you’ve been _inside_ her. You _loved_ her. How the fuck am I not supposed to react when she so clearly wants you still?” 

“This is the same damn argument as two weeks ago. Did your opinion really not change? Yeah, Damian, I did. I _was_ with her. I loved her. And yet, I am here now. With you. And you act like that means nothing to you. So you tell me. How the fuck are you blaming _me?_ ” 

Damian groaned in frustration, one hand coming up dramatically. “Nothing! It means everything to me. It means _everything._ You are oblivious to the eyes of the world around you - you should be less trusting. She wants you. I am allowed to be envious.” 

Dick snorted, turning his head back to finally look back at Damian’s angry face. “But you have me! You give me such a goddamn headache and for the stupidest fucking reason in the world. You take jealousy to a whole new level. No, actually. That’s not just jealousy. That’s just _childish._ I am honestly embarrassed. I’m pissed. You just think about however many girls I fucked.” 

“ _No_ . I could’ve asked for _far_ more details about your previous... _lovers_ , but I didn’t. I haven’t even fought with any of them. Not like they deserve. And I _could’ve._ Don’t you see? I had to hear so much about your endless list of lovers, and go for so long without letting the world know that those were all mistakes and you’re just mine. It’s _my_ time now.” 

“Jesus. Incredible to see that the standard for respecting my personal boundaries is fucking lower than ever. Grow the fuck up.” 

Damian bared his teeth, emerald eyes smouldering. “ _Why?_ Why are you so defensive about whatever the fuck if I tell off that purple temptress? Are you going to go let her bandage up your back? Oh, she heals, doesn’t she? Excellent! You don’t even _need_ a bandage with her. Are you going to go over to _her_ and tell her not to be jealous of _me_? Are you going to go play her and make her fall more in love every day? But then leave to the next pair of legs that opens for you? Going to go play casanova and fuck anything that moves? What _haven’t_ you put your fucking cock in?!” Damian snapped. As soon as he said the words, he regretted them. Everything slowed, and he realized he was crying. He didn’t _mean_ that, he didn’t mean any of it, he just knew it would hurt, how it would cut into Dick, and he was so angry. He had just been so _jealous,_ so angry, that it seemed like Dick was taking everyone’s side but his when all he meant was that he wanted everyone to know they belonged together - just them. That’s all he wanted, and he knew he was royally fumbling the delivery, but didn’t that count for something? He didn’t mean that, surely Dick would realize that he was just saying stupid shit, because he _couldn’t_ have anything on Dick, none of that was true. _I didn’t mean it._ He just wanted Dick, and he couldn’t bear to entertain anything else. Before Damian’s mouth started to form an apology, Dick’s hard voice cut in. 

“Shut the fuck up. Shut your fucking mouth for once in your fucking life. Don’t fucking say one more word. Leave me the _fuck_ alone.” Dick’s face looked harder than Damian had ever seen him, his jaw looking like it would snap off at any moment. 

“Dick, please, I -” 

“I said _no._ I’m not going to ask you again. Leave me the fuck alone, Damian. I want to be alone.” Dick said quietly, turning his full body to face outside. Damian felt like his stomach was down to his shoes, and his heart even lower. Damian felt another wave of hot stinging tears behind his eyes, and his chest felt so empty. Nothing hurt more than fighting with Dick, and he had managed to do it again. With one last glance towards Dick’s scarred back illuminated by the city light, Damian turned towards the door. Passing the bed, Damian dropped what he had been carrying behind his back the whole time, and had almost forgotten about. It didn’t matter anymore. He fucked it up, and he hoped that next time he would get a chance to take it all back and prove that he didn’t really think that. _I’m sorry. I love you. I need you._

The door shut quietly, and Dick waited for his heart to stop searing. Watching the cars below, counting the telephone wires around, to imagining what kind of person lived in whatever room in the opposite building’s balcony, Dick distracted himself from thinking about how truly hurt he was. How he felt like he had been reaching a little with how uncontrollable Damian’s envy was, but then he had caught exactly what he couldn’t bear to hear. 

The bouquet of beautifully assorted flowers and loving sketches of Dick in Damian’s hand laid on the bed, the flowers crushed under the weight of the sketchbook. The fragile petals tore under the weight. Dick kept looking outside. 

  
  


\--- 

Damian hung on the pull-up bar in the doorway of their laundry room, sweat dripping down onto the wood floor beneath him. His back muscles burned, his thighs feeling heavy, but he pulled himself higher, worked his muscles harder. 

Dick walked into the kitchen, barely glancing at Damian, and went to make the jasmine tea he had been practically overdosing lately. His hair was wet from the shower, but instead of coming out naked, or forcing Damian to shower with him, he looked as if he had not a single horny thought in his head, which was an awful thought. Damian _wanted_ to be bullied into coming into the shower, or rounds of morning sex, or sex in the middle night, or just _sex_ that was demanding and intense, because he felt like if he begged for real Dick would hate him even more. But Damian’s heart sped up seeing Dick walk in, and the need to talk, to _have_ and _bask_ in Dick’s attention again, was too overwhelming. 

“Good morning. I went out for a run this morning, and on the way back a truly annoying young woman outside the complex insisted I take her flyer. She shoved it into my hands more than anything, saying she recognized I lived with you and that she wanted you to come. Perhaps you’ve talked to her about circuses before?” Damian asked. Dick ignored him. Damian continued quickly, ignoring the heavy silence. 

“Well I kept it because I do actually think you might appreciate it. So there is a circus coming to town. She was telling me all about the acrobats of the circus and their routines, which was amusing because I knew you could do it while asleep. It’s not a Haly’s circus by any means, but I figured you might...want to attend together?” Damian ventured, stilling himself over the pull-up bar. 

“Oh, interesting. A young woman? Did you ask her if I fucked her?” Dick sniped, reaching up to grab a mug. 

“What? No, I - no. I just thought, that maybe.” Damian’s mind raced to fix how quickly the conversation was derailing, because he wasn’t ready to go all into his overdue apology, he hadn’t recited it in his head, and it had to be _perfect_ for Dick. “It’s this Thursday. I can buy that atrociously multi-colored popcorn you’re so fond of. Are you...interested?” Damian asked nervously, eyes glued to the back of Dick’s head. 

Dick sighed, stilling. He leaned on an arm hanging off the cupboard, looking worn. “I- I’ll be in Gotham Thursday. I won’t be able to.” Dick said softly, turning back to look at Damian. He looked more sad than anything, like what he _wanted_ and what he was _doing_ were very different. Damian wondered if he actually did have to go to Gotham on Thursday, but he didn’t want to press. 

“Ah. Of course. Obviously.” Damian said tersely, feeling his skin prickle with disappointment but not wanting to ruin things ever more. Everything was so tense, but it didn’t feel right to say _hey, I need to talk to you,_ or maybe Damian was just too scared to. He needed to make it perfect, and when he was hurting was perhaps a poor time to talk, since that was why they were in such a mess in the first place. 

Damian pulled himself up with more vigor, and Dick grimaced. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but his jaw locked and his momentarily open gaze slid past Damian. _Fuck, maybe I could’ve sa -_

The high pitch whistle of the tea kettle Dick had startled him, and Damian saw the same stony, cold face slide back on Dick’s face. As soon as he finished making his tea, Dick turned and passed the table, seeing the proud flyer in the middle, boasting the new circus. His step faltered, but he kept moving forward, back into the bedroom. Damian dropped from the bar, his fists clenching, wanting to punch the wall, or himself, or _something._

  
It was _almost_ like he didn’t know how to talk to Dick. _Just almost._ Because that just wouldn't make sense. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is when shit is really gonna hit the fan! it is hard to make my faves fight, but that's when you peel back their tough guy armor and see that really they're just hurt softies :,,


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg a bazillion years later and i have an update. well this is when it really starts to get real, and I won't lie, sometimes I would just stop typing and look :( at the screen bc theyre so sad right now. I'm not like super happy w it, but I am sure my angst in the future will be better than now, but the only way to get there is to write. also ao3 is doing something fucky w my chapter notes so if you see them like duplicated or something....no you didn't ❤️
> 
> I love writing angst, i think because it is so much emotion you need to dig as an author to try and make it believable. So, no promises that it'll work on you, but I can still hope! as always, I adore comments and feedback, especially on this kind of piece :,)

\---

Damian’s cat-like eyes watched Dick in the dark, the barest light from the living room illuminating Dick’s profile. He had been shifting restlessly in his sleep, and once Dick had pulled the cover off, Damian could see why. He was hard, but oddly, his arms were rigid, and his brow was furrowed as if in concentration. Normally, this would be an exceptional time to wake Dick up with his mouth around his cock, or maybe prep himself so he could slide onto Dick, but that was _before._ Now, Damian didn’t feel like he could do anything unless Dick explicitly said so - as if Dick would talk to him long enough for that to happen. It looked like Dick was trying to practice complete self-control, ignoring his erection entirely. But the movements had woke Damian up, and now he was just resigned to watching Dick fight his arousal and hopefully what -? Wake up? Look at him with the same cold eyes? Damian didn’t know. 

Dick snorted awake, his eyes flying open and searching the room quickly before meeting Damian’s gaze. Dick’s face was momentarily vulnerable, flushed and open, and Damian inched forward unconsciously. 

“What?” Dick asked hoarsely, pushing himself up on his forearms. _Okay, Damian. Play this right._

“Nothing. You just woke me up. Which is fine, I don’t mind in the slightest.” Damian said honestly. Dick frowned, uncomfortable with any sense of blame. _Okay, here goes nothing._ “I can’t help but notice that you are physically affected. We haven’t...in awhile. Can I...help?” Damian asked slowly, his eyes ducking down to Dick’s noticeable bulge. Dick looked down, face flushing when he saw his state. 

“Oh. No, thanks. I’m not in the mood.” Dick lied, pulling the covers back over his lap, his hands twitching. Damian narrowed his eyes. _Not in the mood?!_ Why did he feel the need to lie? Was he just going to shut him out until they talked? _This_ would help them, help Damian feel like he could actually talk to Dick, so really, this was in their best interest. Plus, it had been ages since Damian got to touch Dick, and he was sure he was going to go insane if he was celibate for much longer. 

“I don’t see how that’s possible, since you woke up _because_ you were in the mood. Why not? It will help...this thing we have. Please. I promise I will make it worth it. Then if you want, we can talk? Would you like that?” Damian asked nervously, his heart racing at the thought of really talking. The apology he had bouncing around in his head constantly felt like it was constrained by some net that prevented it from ever actually leaving, but Damian was sure it would be easier after they reconnected, and what better way to reconnect than sex? 

Dick scoffed, his mouth pulling back meanly. “Will it help?” Dick echoed incredulously. “You really don’t understand how you hurt me, do you? You just don’t get anything.” Dick hissed, pulling the covers up and facing away. 

“Oh, _I_ don’t get anything? Well if you didn’t just _shut_ me out for no goddamn reason, maybe we could talk.” Damian snapped, face burning from rejection. 

Dick sat up, his arms shaking, his face tight. “Talk then. Tell me how you understand what you did was wrong. Tell me that you were _wrong,_ and that you shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.” 

Damian frowned, hiding how hard it was to just _say_ such vulnerable things when he felt like Dick right then would never accept it at all, and then the suspension of _I will apologize perfectly and everything will go back to before_ would be shattered, and then how could Damian repair it? But Dick’s ice chip eyes pinned Damian, and he shifted back in the bed. 

“I- uh, okay. Well, can we talk about it when we aren’t fighting? I need to - I prefer to say it precisely, and I thought that -” 

“When we aren’t fighting? _When_ aren’t we fighting? You’re right, I don’t want to do this now either. I’m going out.” Dick growled, getting out of bed and stalking off towards the compartment with all their suits, his obvious erection bobbing with every movement. Damian sighed, hands pushing into his eyes. _Goddamn it._

Damian got out of bed, walking towards their suits. Dick had recently been taking up the cowl once more, while Bruce was off with Justice League business. He rarely wore the Nightwing suit, seeing as he usually was off in Gotham, but Damian hoped that the freeing feel the suit gave him would get him in a better mood and _then,_ then Damian would really talk. He just needed it to be perfect, that was all. 

“I’m coming, too. You need a Robin at your back.” Damian said softly, a hand barely touching Dick’s shoulder. Dick stiffened, his mouth opening to retort, but he shut it, looking away. 

“Okay.” Dick whispered, his muscles taut. 

They suited up, flying out into the Bludhaven night. And every turn Damian recited the apology in his head, but when he saw the first real, albeit small, smile from Dick since forever, Damian didn’t want to ruin it. Dick looked almost happy, wearing the Nightwing suit, free falling, and Damian felt starved for any positive interactions. Damian thought that he was just moving the talk, now that Dick was happy was he really just going to ruin that again? It would be improper of him to ruin Dick’s rare good moods. _Absolutely improper._

But it didn’t leave his head, and he struggled with ignoring _why_ it burned so much. It wasn’t really as much of letting himself fall, of being _vulnerable,_ of taking ownership, although he had mixed feelings still about the extent of his ownership. It was the thought that he would say it, he would come clean, _apologize_ completely, and it wouldn’t be enough and then Dick would see that he wasn’t worth his time. And sure, what they were going through was more painful than anything Damian had been through - the festering resentment that built up every day. But in the deepest part of Damian’s soul, he was terrified that what he had done was _too_ much, he was always _too_ much, that it cut too deeply for any forgiveness. That maybe he had fucked it up beyond fixing, and then...then Dick would leave him. 

Damian would rather die every day of his life than lay everything out _again_ to Dick, but this time...this time what if it was too much? And so Damian let the night draw out, allowing the lesser of two nightmares to go on. 

\---

Dick helped Tim lift the giant water pipe off of his chest, Tim hissing when the rubble dug into his sides with the movement. Holding a hand out, Dick’s eyes scanned around the warehouse distractedly. 

“Thanks.” Tim grit out, straightening painfully. 

Dick hummed, already turning back to leave. He had been out in west Gotham near the docks, tracking an annoyingly vague trail the Nygma had left, when Tim had paged him needing help with some of Penguin’s thugs, Tim having broken into the Penguin’s newest rumored networking base. 

Tim groaned, stretching and pressing into his side. Dick hoped if he looked confident enough walking away, Tim would think that he was really busy and he would just let him be. 

“Hey, where are you going? You just got here. I haven’t seen you in ages. Need some help tonight?” Tim asked warmly, walking towards Dick. _Damn it._ It was true, Dick hadn’t seen Tim in quite awhile. He knew Tim was usually off with the Titans, but when _was_ the last time he had seen him…? He knew it was very brief...A flash of Tim’s disgusted face popped in his head from the night of the gala, and Dick’s mood instantly soured with the memory. Tim had heard Damian’s outburst, and Dick had barely caught his face while pulling Damian back from Raven. Tim had never been fond of Dick and Damian’s relationship, or Damian in general for that matter, and Dick had chalked up Tim’s increased presence with the Titans and general avoidance of them to his discomfort. Dick had missed Tim of course, but for some reason, the thought of patrolling with anyone else - even someone as _outside_ of the situation as Tim was, was very unpleasant. 

“Mm. That’s okay, I know you’re pretty busy, and you just got all that data I’m sure you’re itching to decode. We’ll catch up sometime?” Dick said casually, already calling the Batmobile over. Tim cocked his head, watching Dick’s quickly retreating form. 

“Nonsense. I have some semblance of self-control, I can wait till later. Besides, it’s not that often that I catch you in a Bruce type of mood. Come on, humor me.” Tim smiled knowingly, following Dick towards the Batmobile. Dick hid his frown, feigning indifference. 

Dick hopped into the Batmobile, and Tim’s Red Robin suit looked even more red under the Batmobile’s red lights. Dick kept his mouth shut, the sounds of him shifting gears the only sound in the car, and Dick had to admit, he should be glad that he ended up getting Tim instead of anyone else - Tim was well aware of how to deal with an upset Dick. 

The Shoal docks came into view, and Dick turned into an alleyway nearby, remembering the coordinates of the supposed underground entrance he had been tipped off. Tim tilted his head, glancing over at Dick. “Okay. I gave you a little time. Now don’t blow me off. Is it about the gala?” 

Dick stiffened, snapping his neck to look over at Tim. The red glow of the controls illuminated Tim’s sharp face, and if Tim didn’t look so all knowing, Dick might’ve thought he could deny it. Dick frowned, looking ahead at the dark water. Tim exhaled, turning his body. “I wondered if that was gonna cause a lot of trouble. You already know how I feel about him, but I’m not trying to say _I told you so_ even though I would love to. Did you guys talk about it?” 

Dick sighed, sinking into his seat. No point in hiding much around Tim, unfortunately. “I guess so. We shouldn’t have - or, I don’t know. I don’t really know if I’m what he actually wants anymore. He doesn’t trust me.” 

“Trust you?” Tim echoed incredulously. “Does he think you were going to do anything? With Raven? As much as I loathe Damian, he isn’t that stupid. You should have seen Raven after, though. She was _fuming_ all night, and I was truly surprised I didn’t get a call saying Damian had been maimed by dark powers the next morning.” 

Dick’s mouth twitched up. “Ha. I bet. She and Damian are a lot alike in some ways. I don’t know what would have happened if I didn’t pull the idiot away.” 

Tim laughed softly. “I can imagine, but it involves Damian with a lot less limbs. You can’t say you don’t have a type. Now I’m mostly kidding, but why did you ever stop dating her and decide your younger brother with an insecurity complex the size of Gotham was in fact, better?” 

Dick turned to look at Tim incredulously. “Are we just forgetting how not fond _you_ were of her when we were dating? Jason, too? _Bruce?_ ” 

Tim scowled. “Oh, whatever, I don’t remember it like that.” 

Dick narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, look, I mean she was a _lot_ better than -” 

Dick shook his head, exasperated. “No, it doesn’t matter who I date. None of you like anyone that I date. A little bit after Damian and I started dating, Bruce asked me why I wasn’t dating Raven anymore, when the bastard had never liked it when I was with her. He just didn’t like that I was dating Damian _even_ more.” 

Tim opened his mouth and shut it. “Well, don’t act like you’re not aware _why_ we share such sentiments.” Dick rolled his eyes, still never really comfortable talking about the exceptionally high and rather _not_ fraternal feelings his family held for him. “Besides, you have to admit, it is _really_ hard to see him with you especially when he acts like that.” Tim said honestly. 

Dick nodded slowly. “I guess I get that. He’s not - I don’t know. I want to say that’s not what he really thinks but I - I don’t know right now what to think. I never would have thought he could say what he did, but now it’s all I think about. Maybe I’m also to blame. Maybe I _am_ fucked up. But then I just think about how he doesn’t even _see_ how he loses his temper so easily for nothing and then can’t even fucking say sorry. I just don’t how to fucking understand him right now.” Dick grit out, his voice getting harder as he talked. 

Tim blinked, processing everything that Dick had just said. “Wait. So you guys like _talked_ talked? What did he say to you, Dick?” Dick froze, looking back. Panic raced through his body, and he regretted saying too much around someone like _Tim._ He didn’t want to say what Damian had said, what had _happened,_ how it hurt Dick, how it meant that he and Damian had been living in this cold limbo for what felt like forever. It felt far too private, too intimate, even to tell Tim, despite how surprisingly comforting it initially was to finally open his mouth and _talk_ for real. Because then he’d have to talk about their problem, how everything was ruined and he didn’t even know what the fuck to do at all. 

“ _No._ No, I don’t want to get into that right now. Damn it, I - it actually _really_ doesn’t even matter. I need to patrol, not sit here and gossip. I don’t need to talk about anything I don’t want to because I _don’t_ need to.” Dick shot out, his face closing off. Tim blinked, almost not comprehending the sudden mood change that happened right before him, the _Bruce_ type of shutting down, that Tim wasn’t sure he had ever seen Dick do quite like that. What _had_ Damian said? Dick was always the first person to defend Damian to the world, to explain how Damian could say something so awful, so _hurtful,_ but how it actually was an opportunity to see how Damian had been hurt before and needed to be accepted or loved, or some bullshit like that that always drove Tim insane. Did Damian even realize what he had? Tim’s fists tightened around the seat thinking about Damian throwing away what he had - what everyone had _always_ wanted. Dick got out of the Batmobile, slamming the door, his cape billowing back from the cold wind. The dock water splashed up over the road, following the drains that lined the warehouse looking out at the water. Tim got out slower, trying to process everything quickly, because he knew in just a couple seconds, Dick would completely close off. He turned, putting his arms on the top of the Batmobile, looking across at Dick. 

“I don’t know what he said to you, but I can tell that it really hurt you. Just - just listen to me. What if he’s not the one for you? I swear I’m not saying it because I don’t like him. But what if he isn’t, Dick?” Tim’s soft voice barely sounded over the wind, and he wasn’t sure Dick heard until he saw Dick’s nostrils flare under the cowl. 

Dick glared at Tim, his mouth a sharp line. Ignoring Tim, Dick stalked forward towards the docks, every muscle tensed, his teeth grinding, and his heart breaking. 

\---

Damian shifted in the bed, lean arms holding tightly to Dick’s pillow. Dick was due home at any moment, and Damian knew he was going to be in a poor mood. It had been a month of Dick wearing the cowl again, giving him an excellent excuse to decrease his presence in Bludhaven. And as always, Damian watched the change that always overtook his beloved happened once more - dark under bags got darker, his patience ever thinner, his temper even worse. But this time, Damian couldn’t seem to do anything that made it better. That night where Dick had _smiled_ again felt like a thing of the past, and every day of this new cold war felt worse. Damian felt anxiety he had never felt before, that shut his mouth and peeled his skin back every time he even thought about Dick. 

They talked so very little, and touched even less, Dick’s back facing Damian at night. Damian felt paralyzed, feeling like every second he waited to truly talk made it more impossible, and he had spent countless times planning an entire apology in his head, only to be shattered seeing Dick’s eyes slide over him dismissively. Of course, he knew Dick wouldn’t forget what he said. Contrary to what many thought, Dick didn’t just let everything roll off his back, but it hung heavily, deep in him, albeit hidden. But with Damian, he knew Dick well enough to see how hard he still held his grudge, and it hurt more than anything to know that _he_ did that. Usually when they started to sleep, Damian would turn away, thinking that was what Dick wanted him to do, but he always seemed to face Dick by the morning. 

The front door opened, and Damian stiffened nervously. He waited for Dick’s footsteps to come closer, but when he heard them getting fainter and fainter, Damian got out of bed and tiptoed out to the living room. Dick’s dark form was in the kitchen, and Damian’s heart raced like it did every time he looked at Dick. 

“Hello.” 

Dick hummed, ignoring Damian. Damian stepped forward, wishing he didn’t feel so vulnerable around Dick. He was only wearing his satin pants, and it wasn’t long ago when Dick would have taken one look at him and railed him into the wall. But now there was too much left unsaid, and whatever desire Damian saw in Dick’s eyes never turned into touches. 

Dick sat at the table in the kitchen, his shoulders drooped. He looked awful, considering, with bruises peeking under his clothes, his face looking haggard. Damian realized that his stubble was growing in, and if he knew Dick wasn’t so upset, he would be distracted by how unbelievably hot it made the man. How long had it been since he felt the scratchy stubble behind his neck…? _Very long._ Dick’s grip was tight on a whiskey bottle Damian didn’t even know they had, and he let his puzzlement show. Dick really never drank, unless he was absolutely devastated from something. The last time Damian saw Dick drink was when he had thought Bruce had died. Damian had just been ten, but he remembered the unhinged look on Dick’s face so clearly. _Why now?_

“Did patrol go unsatisfactorily? We can talk about it, if you wish to.” Damian tried, sliding into the chair opposite Dick. 

Dick finally raised his eyes to Damian’s, and Damian felt his chest tighten. His sky blue eyes seemed to be more like ice cold chips, always guarded, so different from the soft warmth they used to have. 

“I don’t. Many things are going unsatisfactorily, as you so nicely put it.” Dick said bluntly, taking a long swig from the whiskey bottle. _Fuck._ Damian wished he was a little better with comforting - they had never been at odds like this, and so any problem they had had before was easier to apologize for, or answer by sliding to the floor to suck Dick’s cock. “Okay. Is there anything I can do to help?” Damian asked, trying to put as much warmth in his voice as he could. 

“I don’t know. I can’t look at you without thinking about what you said. I know I’m probably blowing it up in my mind, again and again, but it’s all I hear. That that’s all you think I am. That you don’t trust me. Maybe you like the idea of me, or something, I don’t know, because it doesn’t feel like you really see me anymore. I love you, and that’s why it hurts so much. And I realized tonight, Damian, that I’ve never been so fucking hurt.” Dick rasped, his low baritone filling Damian’s ears. 

Damian’s heart ached, his lungs seizing. He straightened more in his chair, his toes tensing painfully. “No, no, I- Richard, wait. I’m so...I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I swear to you, beloved. I didn’t _mean_ it. I said things I never should have said, because they’re abhorrent and they are simply wrong. They do not in _any_ way reflect what I feel for you, or how I think about you. I said it because I was hurt, and angry, and I wanted you to be upset like me in some selfish way. But I don’t think that. I promise, I _swear,_ my love, I didn't mean it. Please believe me. I’d do anything for you. You _know_ that.” Damian pleaded, his hands coming across the table to touch Dick’s. 

Dick closed his eyes, looking so exhausted Damian was distantly wondering how he was holding himself up. Damian stood up, crouching close towards Dick and letting his hands touch Dick’s rough face. Dick’s hot breath smelled sharply of alcohol, and being closer than he had been in what felt like years, Damian could see how different Dick looked from how he did before. “I’m sorry. I should have said it sooner, I just didn’t know - I don’t know what to do. I just want you.” Damian admitted. Dick said nothing, his face tight. Damian leaned forward slowly, catching Dick’s lips with his own. Damian pushed in, the familiar intoxicating feeling that was kissing Dick that always felt like the first time driving him forward, and his hands went up through Dick’s hair. Dick didn’t respond at first, but when Damian slid into his lip and grinded down, he came to life, meeting Damian bruisingly hard. Damian gasped as Dick grabbed him roughly, pushing him down on the table, spreading Damian’s legs and pressing into him. Dick’s hands found their place on Damian’s neck, squeezing tightly, and Damian moaned out. Dick’s wild face looked down at Damian, his gaunt face now flushed with life, and Damian could _see_ the love he had missed seeing more than anything in the world. 

Dick leaned down, his breathing fast. “See, this is the problem. I want you _so_ bad. I love you. But all I hear in my head is that I’m proving you right. Like all I do is fuck, like I’m ignoring that it feels like that’s all you care about. Like I’m some monster, and nothing I’ve ever had means nothing. And then I just think about how you looked when you said that, that maybe I am nothing like who I thought I was, or that I’m fucked up, or everything _._ It won’t _leave._ I can’t - I just,” Dick broke off, his eyes burning. Damian’s face fell, his lust obliterated, and he pushed himself up on the table to look at Dick. Dick stepped back, his shaking hands gripping the counter behind him. His obvious erection showed through his sweatpants, but Damian didn’t even notice it, his eyes frantically trying to meet Dick’s. 

“What are you saying, Richard?” Damian asked agitatedly. Dick’s eyes shut, and he grit his teeth, looking like he was going to lose it. Blue eyes snapped open, and he grabbed the whiskey bottle and threw it against the wall. He looked feral, but enough of _Dick_ that Damian knew he was still there _,_ because tears streamed down his face, and his breaths came out raggedly. 

“What I’m saying is - what I’m _trying_ to say, fuck. I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything right now. I just think we - I don’t fucking know. We need time. I can’t do this anymore. We don’t talk, we don’t touch, we don’t fucking do anything! Maybe I’m not what you want. Maybe you just don’t see it yet. We rushed into this, and if you can’t even trust me, or if I’m fucked up, how can _this_ work? I can’t do this anymore, Damian.” Dick whispered, turning to avoid seeing Damian’s face. 

_What?_ Damian stared. _Can’t?_ Damian felt everything was surely going to crash down, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t say anything, his heart couldn’t beat, because how could it? How could he _not_ be with Dick? Never once in his life had he thought that once he got Dick that they would _split._ That it wouldn’t work out. Dick was his world, his everything. His beloved. There was no future anymore - it was _all_ Dick, it had always been Dick. _I don’t have anything without you._ Damian’s throat closed up, the burn of tears and devastating pain of his chest being ripped open, and he choked loudly. Dick’s silent sobs were visible from the random seizing of his back, and Damian couldn’t believe it - it was _real._ How had it turned into _that?_ How had they gone from about to make love in the kitchen, coming back to each other, to ending things? They were _over._ It was gone. It couldn’t be real, but it _was._ It was, and it hurt more than dying, it felt worse than anything Damian ever could have thought of, but there was nothing he could do. He knew if Dick was at this point, how hard it must have been to say that. Damian couldn't even think of the words to beg him to take it back, not when knowing that Dick had _wanted_ this. 

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispered, his hands shaking. “I’m so sorry, but I think we ne- we need it. Please.” 

Damian watched the man he’d always loved break in front of him, wondering how he had ever let it come to a point where this happened. Damian stumbled off the table, his breaths too quick, more tears than he had ever cried before falling wetly on his chest. Dick slid to the ground, his head going to his hands, and Damian kept blinking, desperate to wake up from this hell. What could he do? How could he live without him? _Why_ didn’t he say anything? _Because I didn’t want you to leave._ But he was, and there was nothing Damian could do. He couldn’t stop loving Dick, not ever. But Dick _asked_ him, Dick thought they needed this. Damian staggered to their bedroom, his eyes taking in how thoroughly his life had mixed with Dick’s. How _everything_ of his had become _theirs,_ how every part of the apartment was touched by _them,_ and there was nothing that was just Damian’s anymore. There wasn’t a single part of Damian that was just Damian anymore - _everything_ had been touched by Dick, had been worshipped and loved by Dick. He didn’t want anything to be without Dick, he wanted Dick in his _soul,_ in his very being. He didn’t have anything there for him. It wasn’t his anymore. Loving Dick had given him everything, and he had nothing behind. 

Before he could even think, Damian darted forward to grab Dick’s sweater on the bed, and the polaroid of them kissing that Damian kept under his pillow. There was nothing else he could take, he didn’t _want_ anything else. His head was so full of thoughts that pulled him every which way, that he couldn’t hold onto any thought for longer than a second. Damian pushed out of the room, heading for the door. He _knew_ it was true love. Maybe not for Dick, but for _him,_ it had always been true love. It was only ever him. But if Dick wanted him gone, he would leave. He would go for Dick. He would do anything for Dick. He hurt Dick. He needed to _earn_ him back - _or no. I don’t get to pick. If he wants me back. However far away I need to be, I will always love you with my everything. I am always yours._

Damian paused before heading towards the front door, thankful his body was going into auto-drive while he was moments away from dissociating. Just moments away from vomiting or passing out or going insane, but there was also the simplicity in loving Dick, of knowing that he would give Dick whatever he wanted. Even if hurt more than anything in the world, more than all the pain he had ever felt combined, he would do it. _Because I love you._

“I will always be yours. I never meant it. I _never_ fucking meant it. I love you more than everything, Richard Grayson. It’ll only ever be you.” Damian promised, his voice breaking. He felt his tears falling on his feet, sliding down and making the floor wet. Dick looked up, his handsome face red from crying and alcohol. He tensed his jaw, his mouth pulled back in anguish, his shaking hands pulling at any and every part of his body. The dark shadows of the kitchen enveloped Dick, and Damian could barely see the smallest glint of Dick’s blue eyes that he fell in love with every day. 

_For Dick._ Damian slowly pulled the front door open, and slid out, letting the door close softly. The night was inky black, but the yellow haze of busy city life bled into the sky. It felt so viscerally wrong to see evidence that the world was continuing around him, while Damian’s entire world had just imploded. He could hear Dick’s raised voice cursing, could hear the breaking of glass, and Damian ran, not knowing where he was going, or going to do, only knowing where he couldn’t be anymore. 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :,( they do be broken up now doe. let me know what you think!! It's been really interesting to think about them fighting/how they would, how they could ever break up, and especially especially post break up (which i am writing now). but I have to really try and flesh it out right so I'll work on that because i really care about making them in character. anyways, thank you for reading! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update time! this is more of a filler chapter to set up for the next one, but i still wanna tinker with that one a little so that one will come soon. damian is so much easier to think about post break up, I've found! damian is easier to write anyways for me, but angst and colossal insecurities is as damian as you can get. also i think this is obvious but i want to point out that I write as an unreliable narrator, so these boys are pretty dramatic about blah blah i dont deserve the other blah but I write their perspective - I just wanna clarify because in this story I really think both are to blame. damian really crossed a line and needs to learn how to work w his insecurities and apologize first off, and dick needs to be more patient and see where damian is coming from. I really tried to work on how they were both at fault but!!! as much as this breakup sucks, it had to happen for them to kinda wake up. ok now on w the dramatic update! as always, I am very comment horny and they really help me feel how you guys read this!

_Two Months Later_

Steam from Damian’s tea rose, and he watched it swirl in the winter air on his balcony. His fingers rapped erratically on the table, a new tic that had developed. It only went away when he was in action, the thrill of adrenaline enough to take him away from the discomfort of living. It was early morning, one of those mornings that Dick would’ve said would be cold enough that his dick was going to freeze off, but Damian only wore boxers. Perhaps it was a little melodramatic to enjoy the feeling, even if it was painful, but there were few things that distracted his wild mind long enough to dwell on. 

A crossword laid out in front of him, a pencil on top. He had always disliked pencils, held contempt for those who needed instruments that allowed for mistakes, and so had always been partial to pens. Dick had always been fond of his insistence that he was superior because he used pens, even though he disagreed. He had always smiled and shook his head, saying that the freeing feeling of _trying again_ and room for failure was what really allowed you to grow, or some such nonsense like that. But that was _before_ . Before, when Damian had everything in the world, and he could afford to snort contemptuously and continue to use his pen. Now, he _did_ make mistakes. His hand would jerk, or he would press too hard, and a black streak would tear across the paper, ruining it. Or he would have the answer to the crossword instantly, only to lose it a second later in his head and frustrate himself. He had always left the more trivia based questions for Dick, because Damian’s knowledge of social culture was noticeably limited, and Dick loved to surprise him with the strangest, silliest facts that would make Damian grudgingly smile every time. The crossword was streaked with jagged graphite lines that never seemed to fully erase, but blank on all trivia questions. It was stupid, even Damian knew that, but it felt wrong to put anything in the place where Dick’s messy scrawl had always been. 

He had stayed up very late, following a quick patrol, and hadn’t fallen asleep easily at all. His patrols were rather unorthodox, with little order, since he was only patrolling in certain places in Gotham that his father wasn’t. He thought he would get to use patrol as more of an outlet - maybe hitting a little harder than normal, or letting out his temper off the tight leash he always tried to keep it on. But he didn’t, not really. He just felt empty, save for the most intense seconds of battle. 

Damian had been intending to sleep more than usual, unlike the beginning of the hellish last two months when he just tried to stay awake the entire night. He would keep staring up at the ceiling, half expecting to turn and see Dick’s comforting form next to him, but he was never there. And so he had stopped doing that pretty quickly, because it was getting harder and harder to dig himself out of that hole at night. Instead, Damian kept his gaze forward, letting his fingers find Dick’s sweater he had stolen and carefully holding it close to smell. He was always very conscious of how he held it, letting almost nothing touch it. He ignored how the smell was definitely less strong than his first night with it two months ago. 

Dick always used to snore softly, and Damian would poke him in the side until he rolled over, or he woke up and spewed his disgusting breath all over Damian’s face and then they’d tussle, maybe have sex, or things like that. Well, actually, Damian _didn’t_ anymore _,_ but he wasn’t consciously going to think about that. Instead, he imagined Dick’s soft snores next to him, his long legs hogging all the blankets, and how his form seemed to take up the whole bed. The fantasy could continue as long as Damian didn’t turn his head and see the empty black next to him, and it had become some sort of a game. Every day he would remember what Dick would do in whatever situation he found himself in, and then pretend that it was going on, that he wasn’t so lonely. He just couldn’t ever turn his head. A repetitive game, sure, but an excellent way to keep sane. 

The Gotham skyline fell beyond him, the barest hint of snow falling to add to last night’s onslaught. People were milling about below, keeping to already made paths through the snow, and paid no mind to the haggard young man above them. Damian sat up, sensing the need to _do_ something coming quickly, and he wasn’t meaning to have the day ruined just yet. Damian walked slowly to the living room, hoping that working out would give him some reprieve. 

The inside of his apartment was very cold, the heating only coming on randomly since the lines were extensions of the restaurants next to him. Nobody had come out to rewire them, since the complex was in such a shitty part of town. Which was fine, because he did happen to like having occasional heat. His new life of solitude found him in an abandoned complex he had remembered from several months back on a mission. It was in one of the more run-down parts of Gotham, and it was so demolished from the front that unless you were a Bat, there was no way to access it. His apartment unit was surprisingly not caved in, like his neighbors,’ but the rubble from the other apartments meant he was safe from peering eyes on the street. The apartment was almost entirely barren except for some clothes he had been sent over from the manor, and Dick’s sweater that stayed next to him on the bed, the polaroid under his pillow. The living room had been completely emptied, only weights and exercise bars filling the space. There was no table in the kitchen, no excess food, and a pile of his favorite books laying by the foot of his bed were the only personal touch in the apartment. 

Which was fine for Damian, since the thought of rebuilding a life after Dick was impossible. Damian took down a set of wooden handles and placed it on the ground, shoulder length apart. Rolling his shoulders, Damian exhaled, trying to focus. He leaned down, grabbing the handles and gripping hard, kicking his legs up to balance in the air. His arms ached more than they used to, accustomed to more muscle on his body, but Damian grit his teeth and tightened his core, lifting his legs higher and wider. _Calisthenics,_ Dick had called it. Sweat started to trickle down his hairline, and Damian’s breath burst out in ugly expulsions despite his focus. It was _stupid,_ he was never this poor at controlling himself, but it seemed like he was just a ghost of his former self, lightyears from the great Damian Wayne, son of Batman. How dreadful it would be for anyone to see him now, much less Dick. 

Damian slowly leaned down for a push up, his nose just an inch over the ground, but his left leg locked awkwardly and he heard Dick in his ear, so close it felt _real,_ laughing warmly and teasing him, saying _you’re always so stiff_ and _relax your body, just trust me._ Damian even felt a trace of Dick’s warmth behind his neck, imagined strong hands stabilizing his lower body, gripping him so surely, so _familiarly,_ as if Damian was just an extension of Dick _._ Damian’s left arm buckled under the sudden imbalance of weight, and he fell, his legs bending wildly, landing on the floor so ungracefully he half expected his mother to materialize and cuff him on the head. Damian hissed angrily, hands tearing through his hair, wondering if he was doomed to do _everything_ with the threat of Dick’s memory just seconds away from pulling him back into ruins. 

Damian hurried to the shower, feeling foolish for running away from something like working out, but _that_ kind of incident wasn’t something he could just ignore. He needed anything different to dispel such tortuous thoughts. Dragging his shorts down, Damian turned on the shower and stepped in, used to cold showers. Staring down at his feet, Damian searched for something to think about. _Anything but that._ He resigned to counting the tiles when nothing came. He didn’t do anything new anymore, it felt like he just did the same thing every day, they all blurred together anyways, and nothing really mattered. 

Washing away the soap, Damian looked up to turn off the shower, but the reflection in the knob made him still, his heartbeat picking up, and he was struck by one of the last times he was in the shower with Dick. 

Damian had been staring at the reflection of the shower knob, desperately trying to stop blushing, as Dick laughed behind him. 

“Hey, you _do_ have a mole down here. Remind me, was it _you_ by any chance who teased me for my moles? What did you so nicely call it? Oh, yes, how could I forget. _Circular premonitions for cancerous happenings, made worse by a rather long and dark hair protruding out of the middle, like some distasteful squamous announcer._ ” Dick said dramatically, imitating Damian’s low baritone. 

“ _Which_ is rather rude, I will point out. I happen to like my mole on my arm. But it looks like even the all perfect Damian Wayne has one, even if it’s so tiny. It’s right under your ass, too. Been hiding from me for so long. Hello, little guy! I’m surprised I didn’t see you last night, seeing as I had this ass propped up and twitching for me to fill it up again.” Dick said wickedly, bending down to handle Damian’s ass possessively. 

“ _Richard._ You’re being insufferable. I did not say _any_ mole was appalling. I just said _yours_ was.” Damian said haughtily, despite pushing back into Dick needily. Dick’s low laugh rumbled behind him, and Damian’s eyes rolled back when those rough, sure hands he could never get enough of slid up his stomach, making his cock jerk. 

“Mhm. That does sound an awful lot like something you’d say. Pompous, arrogant, with your eyes narrowed and your chin held high. Funny, because you’re so _easy._ So easy to break you down, bring down that facade and see you’re really just a little _slut._ I could do anything to you, and you’d be on your knees begging for me to do it again.” Dick said darkly, pressing his erection against Damian’s ass insistently, stepping forward to spread Damian’s legs wide. Damian choked, hands going to still himself on the tile, and he ducked instinctively, pushing his hips back and bringing his head down. 

“Perhaps you need a little more ah, testing, _ah,_ to prove such a theory.” Damian panted, heartbeat thundering when he felt Dick’s fingers trail down his spine to his ass. 

“I don’t, but I’ll indulge you anyways. I quite like the way you think, little prince. In fact... _I love everything about you._ ” Dick said lowly, two fingers pushing into Damian quickly. Damian grit his teeth, it had only been hours since they had last fucked, but Dick’s long fingers were rough and impatient. Damian moaned out, his eyes rolling back, and he watched the small reflection in the shower knob, obsessed with seeing the looming perfect figure that was Dick, _his_ Dick, behind him, his broad shoulders bracketing Damian into the corner of the shower. 

“I love you _most,_ beloved.” Damian breathed out just as Dick lined his cock up, and Damian struggled to focus on the shower knob, desperate to see _proof_ of Dick’s love. 

Damian snapped his head back, his breathing coming out ragged, and he almost slipped back. _Fuck!_ Damian bit his lip so hard he felt blood running down, but the memory felt so _real,_ he could almost feel it again, that feeling of happiness. He wanted to go back, and _fix_ everything, never let it get to how it ended up. Damian slid down in the shower, the cold water doing little to dispel his rare erection, and he put his head in his hands. Just once with Dick was enough to think about for a lifetime, but he had so much _more,_ he had had _everything._ He knew he’d never trade it for anything, never wanting to keep living in ignorance of the ecstasy he had lost, but on days like this, it felt more like a curse than a dream. 

\---

The door swung back sharply, a loud telling scrape knocking through the drywall. Dick stumbled in, hands over his stomach, blood pooling out from his hands. He was getting too reckless on patrol, uncaring when he got hurt, but this one _hurt._ His vision swam, and he stumbled to try and get to the first aid kit under the cabinet. Dark streaks of blood stained the light carpet; it had gotten dirtier and dirtier ever since Damian’s careful eyes and snippy draconian rules left. 

“Ah, fuck,” Dick gasped, collapsing on the floor, bloody hand gripping the counter precariously. Rifling through the kit to find dressings and bandages for the wound, Dick’s pants slowed, his adrenaline finally falling. It had been so long since he did these things alone. 

Tying off the bandage across his stomach, Dick slowly shrugged out of his torn suit, head going back against the wall. It was times like this when he felt colder than usual - coming off a high of patrol or battle and returning back to an empty apartment that screamed Damian in every inch, every part echoed his ghost. Dick had almost considered moving out, but he couldn’t do it, not really. Couldn’t leave the only connection he still had to Damian, even if it was torturous. 

As his breathing slowed, Dick tried getting back up, keen on having just a little alcohol to try and relax. He was trying to limit himself lately; he really never was inclined to alcohol, except for when all control in his life was gone and he was left driving a car that felt like it was going nowhere but somehow hitting everything in sight. _Fitting._ Just the smallest drink of whiskey, Dick thought, his head throbbing with pain. Pulling out his chair, Dick sat and drank some whiskey from the open bottle, eyes locked on the empty chair across from him. He never moved the chair, since Damian had left. Every time Dick sat there, he replayed the scene again and again, remembering the way Damian tasted, the way he moaned so softly under Dick’s hands...how his face split when Dick told him he couldn’t do it anymore. He swore he could see it happen again right in front of him, but in a detached sort of way, because how could that have happened to _him?_ How could he have done anything to lead to _that?_

Dick leaned back despite the flare of pain in his stomach, eyes sliding beyond into nothing. The living room was still a mess, the TV broken and on its side, the blinds falling awkwardly, the couch littered with glass from a bottle Dick had thrown from he wasn’t sure when. It was so _toxic_ to live in this apartment, to walk each hallway half-expecting to run into Damian’s warm, steady frame, only to see the same hellish bleak surroundings again and again. Dick hadn’t ever cared much for decorating the apartment, but once Damian moved in, with _all_ of his bags rather quickly, he had set out to working on making the place less of a “saturnine cave that reeked of the brutish minimum with no sense of style or sense,” as he so kindly put it. Damian’s touch was in the dark curtains, the sleek black bookshelves with neatly filed novels lining the living room, the new rule that _everything_ had a place, no matter how annoyingly specific. Their bed was entirely Damian - gone was the simple, poorly built bed Dick had; in its stead was a beautiful black oak canopy with dark satin sheets. Damian had come swinging into Dick’s life, had managed to dig himself into every aspect of Dick’s life, but Dick was only left with his phantom touch. 

Dick had rejected all outstretched hands of help, resenting the reality that he had everyone around him ready to help him. Even if they didn’t quite understand, he was never devoid of people he _could_ take a chance on. Because this was just _his_ problem. It wasn’t something to rely on someone else for, wasn’t something to let someone into his life to sort through. And perhaps, deeper still, it was also _why_ he felt so firmly decided in his solitude. Damian had been honest to him when he said he watched Dick have everyone but him; Damian had never had anyone other than Dick, and yet Dick had a constant orbit of people, whether or not he wanted them. He had mountains of experience, brief windows of love with other people, and Dick had really started to think harder about that. He didn’t necessarily regret them exactly, even if that would be simpler. Because he still believed he wouldn’t have been who he was for Damian if he hadn’t, but he never really understood what it was like to be so truly lonely. He had _chosen_ loneliness sometimes, but Damian had _lived_ loneliness, so desperately not wanting it. _And what did I do?_ Dick grit his teeth, his jaw tightening. It would be unfortunate of him to lose himself in anger so early in the night, before he had even finished his drink.

Dick hadn’t seen anyone except Tim since he and Damian split, and with Tim, it was not by choice. Tim had wandered a little _far_ out from Gotham, and so “randomly” caught Dick, ignoring how Dick had refused all contact from Gotham for a reason. It had gone awfully, naturally, with Tim so clearly aware that Dick was in emotional ruins. Comments about Dick’s worsened temper had not been welcome, but he knew it wasn’t untrue, so he had focused on continuing the mission silently without rebuttal. Of course, Tim took that as an opportunity to ask _have you talked to Damian since the breakup?_ and Dick had never ditched someone sooner. He didn’t even feel bad, he just felt pure fear, and well, Tim was fully able to continue the mission alone. 

Unable to face anyone, to _talk_ to anyone about what had happened, as well as the knowledge that Damian had moved to Gotham, made seeing any of the family impossible. _This is what it felt like not to be able to say a word, the words choking you before they ever leave._ It was odd, really, thinking about what led them there. Because Dick still felt beyond hurt, still felt like he wasn’t sure what Damian wanted, still felt like something was missing to make Damian so violently insecure so deep in the relationship. But Dick never felt like blaming Damian anymore. It was more about how he was weak and had folded, hadn’t tried to be patient, and reacted the same way he had blamed Damian for. At any point, he could’ve forced the subject, and stopped waiting for Damian to just apologize like he so craved, like he so _needed_ to hear. Because then he’d have to bite the pride bullet, but then he could _understand,_ and they would talk, and remember that nothing could stop them when they were together. 

Dick laid his head on the table, imagining those strong muscles that always coiled so needily around him, pulling him in again and again, never wanting him to leave. His eyes shut, and he swear he could smell Damian, the clean sharp scent, could see those blazing emerald eyes that looked at him with such wonder, so much love, that Dick knew he couldn’t have ever deserved him before, but now, he definitely did not. 

Perhaps that was the only thing that Dick had decided on. He did still believe that everything is _meant to be,_ even though usually it was in some twisted, sick way. But not with Damian. Dick _knew_ he was different, had always said that, and it didn’t matter who he had been with before, because if they were a soft, kind love, then Damian was a roaring inferno, tearing through everything and making Dick’s heart ache in ways he had never felt before. Dick tilted his head, looking emptily at the bare wall. 

“I’m glad you’re not here to see this, little prince.” Dick said out loud, his raspy voice filling the cold apartment. The silence mocked him. 

_No, I’m glad you’re off and doing something else._ Because maybe everything was meant to be, and Dick was supposed to lose Damian, and there was just nothing he could do to fix it - should he even want to if it was what they needed? What if it was what Damian needed? Could he still rein him back in, say that they could try still? _I do want that._ But wants and whys didn’t matter in the face of _meant to be._ You either were, or you weren’t, and Dick thought more and more every day that it probably was better if they just _weren’t._ For Damian. Because when he said those things, tore Damian’s heart out, it was selfish, to place everything on an all or nothing plate, when he knew Damian was the last person in the world who could deal with something like that. In a sick way, maybe it _was_ for Damian. Because if it was just for Dick now, he would’ve driven to Gotham already, hunted down Damian, and begged him to come back, knowing he didn’t deserve him back. But for _Damian,_ Dick wasn’t so sure he could tell what the youngest Wayne could bear anymore, how low he would have to stoop to accept Dick’s tainted love. 

_Lower than hell, darling. I’m lower than hell._ Which was all good and fine, to know that he fucked it up, that maybe Damian deserved something so much more, it wasn’t so hard to believe when Damian was everything that was _good_ . To someone who was the most loyal, secretly kind, loving, beautiful soul that had just started _hoping_ for the future. Pouring himself another drink, Dick toasted the cold empty apartment that was simultaneously the closest place to home he’d ever had, and the deepest hell he could put himself in. 

It was quite easy to believe that perhaps meant to be just always hurt like a bitch, because surely Dick lost Damian for a reason. _Because I never should have had you._

Dick just wished it didn’t rip through his soul so easily, make every day harder in new, awful ways. Ways that were _without_ Damian. But he knew he better get used to it. Forever was a long time to love from afar, after all. 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, they are both this dramatic, i will die on this hill. let me know what you think!! I love love thinking about this kind of story!!! <3 catch me on [ my twitter!](https://twitter.com/disgruntledwing)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! an update. so this is a chunky chapter, and hopefully you can see the things I tried to lay out from last chapter. this chapter was really interesting to write, in that i think in this story, I've flipped the roles of Tim/Jason in relation to dick and damian as opposed to how I had them in my fic Make Me Yours. I've got most of the next chapter written out, but I want to spend a little more time with it, and give some natural breaks in the story. I'll talk more about that at the end of this chapter ;) but!! I really hope you enjoy this chapter! As always, I adore comments and especially talking with you all about your thoughts on this story! <3

\---

  
  


Damian’s pencil snapped _again,_ and he clenched his hands, desperately trying not to punch a hole in the canvas. His steady hand was a thing of the past, the smooth ease he used to flaunt, _gone_ in the wake of Dick leaving. He had taken to drawing again, or trying to, because there were too many hours in the day to not be doing something with your hands every possible second. Drawing was _supposed_ to be a release, but it proved to mostly just be frustrating. 

Sketches covered the ground of Damian’s bedroom, all jagged lines of Dick’s portrait or body twisting in the air, but there was always a mess in the middle. A blended mess of random lines drawn impulsively. He never drew Dick right anymore - there was always something off, and Damian thought it might as well be blasphemous to draw a shitty portrait of Dick. He looked at the polaroid for a reference sometimes, but such instances were getting fewer and fewer since he was only supposed to only look when he _really_ needed to, because it was a seal of signing off for the day, all productive hopes gone. It was very easy to lose the reason why he pulled it out from under his pillow, and just sit and look at it. It was the only thing he had of Dick that instantly clarified his face for him, but more often than not that was too difficult. 

The sketches surrounding Damian were exceptional to a random bystander, but they were darker and far less refined than the masterpieces he used to make. Of course, the ones he made now weren’t _perfect,_ and when Damian had always been taught to capture the _entire_ essence of the figure, this was unacceptable. 

“I just don’t _know_ anymore. How am I supposed to _draw_ you when it’s been an eternity since I’ve even seen you.” Damian hissed, crumpling the paper angrily. What _did_ Dick look like now? Did he grow out his stubble? Was there a new scar across his nose? His eyebrow? Did his eyes ever shine the same way Damian knew, or did he lose that? Was that phase of his life done? Did his jaw tilt the same when he laughed? Did his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Damian didn’t know. He selfishly hoped no one knew. Damian grabbed his hot tea and sipped it, his frame tight with misery.

It was late morning, but all the days of winter in Gotham looked the same - bleak, dark, and unwelcoming. Not like Damian would have gone out if the day was gorgeous, but it was still hard to wake up and see his room still the same dark, empty void. 

Damian’s tracker on the dresser buzzed, and narrowed eyes slid over to the offensive sound. Standing stiffly, Damian grabbed it slowly. Very few people had access to this tracker, and the only one he did want to talk to, didn’t have it. _Doesn’t want it._

“What?” Damian asked irritably, his dour mood made worse. Jason’s deep voice came over the tracker, and Damian felt a headache coming on. 

“Hiya brat. Back in this shithole of city and it’s like I never left. It’s like a hellish time warp, isn’t it? Anyways, I just saw Timbo and well, I don’t know how to say it but, I heard about... _everything_ . So, well. Want to grab a coffee?” Jason asked, his normally gruff voice warmer. _Pity. I would literally rather eat nails than talk to you about it._

“No. Don’t call me again, Todd.” Damian muttered into the tracker, moving back towards his tea. 

“Tut tut, now. Don’t be annoying. I know, how _difficult_ that must be. Meet me at the cafe on fifth street in twenty, or I’ll come hunt your ass myself - I know vaguely where you are. I have something you’d have to be braindead to pass up. So don’t blow me off if you have even half the brain cells you brag about. Come out of your pity cave or I’ll drag you out of it.” Jason’s voice clicked off. 

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose angrily, wondering how immoral it must be to kick someone down when they were lower than hell. Clearly, Jason did not care. Damian was _not_ going to talk to Jason about the thing Jason so obviously called for, but he knew Jason was nearly as stubborn as he was. Damian glanced back into his room, catching his reflection in the mirror over his makeshift dresser. He looked gaunt, his normally red undertones blue, and he had lost some of his bulk, looking leaner than he had been in a very long time. Jade eyes looked back, dark circles underneath, and his shaking hands made him look away uncomfortably. He didn’t want Jason in there at all. 

Damian lifted the scalding tea to his lips, numbly feeling the burn down his throat into the pit of his stomach. Standing, Damian collected his mug and crumpled the paper he was working on, and walked to his dresser to get dressed. He knew he would be seeing Jason one way or another, and he wanted to do it in a controlled place that didn’t let Jason see how poorly he was doing. He had already worked so hard to fend off calls from the BatCave, which were mostly Alfred but sometimes seemed to be his father. Regardless, he could admit he was curious what Jason thought would be valuable enough to Damian to pull him out. _Then you can run back and report that I am in fact, alive with my grief._

Damian pulled on slacks that felt too big, sliding on a belt and fastening it two rungs closer than he used to use. Bony fingers grabbed a dark green turtleneck off a hanger, and he pulled it over his head, thankful for the momentary darkness the turtleneck gave him. _I don’t want to go._ The feeling was heavy in his stomach. That was all he seemed to feel anymore, the _I don’t want to_ that was so draining to wake up to every day. Damian felt the beginnings of real anxiety sink in, the thought of _seeing_ someone again, of them dissecting him and trying to tell him what he should do or even worse, to belittle him in his darkest hour. But he had to. He knew he should go now, because Jason wouldn’t leave him be, and what if Jason had something Damian did want to know? He had cut himself off from virtually every stream of information, and it was hard to live life without anything new in his appalling life of solitude. He looked again in the small mirror. Looking at himself never helped. He looked sad enough he _almost,_ only almost, felt bad for himself. 

But that would be a ridiculous thought.

\---

A large hand startled Damian, who was gazing out the window and watching crows pick at the trash outside. Damian curled his lip as Jason slid in the booth opposite of him, his leather jacket shedding snow all over the table. Jason grinned, his lidded eyes watching Damian interestedly. 

“Long time no see. I _knew_ if I said it just right, I’d bring you right out of your crying cave, if I was _just_ vague enough. Huh. I guess you did grow into those bigass eyes now that I see you up close. Haven’t seen you in what - eight months? Kinda hate that you’re still growing. Just a little baby now, at your prime. And yet…” Jason gestured awkwardly to Damian’s disheveled state. 

“What was your grand plan? Did my revelation of every enchanting detail of my ruined love life come before or after you insulted me to my face? Perhaps before I bash your head in? Your presence is unnecessary, and you know that. So, tell me, _Todd_. How much did Father pay you to find out what really happened?” Damian snarled, crossing his arms over his turtleneck. 

Jason laughed, his rough face softening with amusement. “And _yet_ , you are just your ten year old self in an adult body.” Jason finished easily. Damian stiffened, his jaw tensing, and he looked away, ignoring the pang in his heart, ignoring the echo of Dick’s voice telling him to _grow the fuck up_. Jason’s aquamarine eyes focused. “A sore spot. I’ve told you that a million times and now all of a sudden you’re upset?...Then Dickie said something.” Jason said, gaining more confidence as he saw Damian’s face grow angrier. He did not often give Jason credit for, well _anything_ , but especially intelligence just because he had deemed Jason impulsive and rash, and Tim was largely considered by many to be notably smart, although Damian felt it could be up for debate. 

“Not even close.” Damian lied. 

Jason watched him thoughtfully, hand propping his head on the counter. “You’re even worse at lying than I thought. You don’t care about anything unless he touches it with his magical golden boy dust. So what, Dickie knows you’re about as emotionally stunted as your dear dickwad of a dad. And so what, your infamous temper tantrums are a little embarrassing. I don’t see how he’d dump you for that. Hell, he knew your problematic ass since the damn beginning. He practically _raised_ you. What’s wrong, he got sick of that puppy dog look you got every time he looked at you?” 

Damian grit his teeth and stood up, motioning the waitress over for the bill. “Fuck _off_ , Todd. It was foolish to meet you. I don’t know why I even came here. You must be so desperate for _any_ contact with the family to harass me now. _Embarrassing_.” Damian sneered. Jason rolled his eyes and grabbed Damian’s arm, pulling him down and waving off the confused waitress. “Shut your ugly mouth, you prick. I’m sorry, whatever. You know I needed to have a little fun since I’ve always wanted Goldie and look where that got me. I’ll be good, I swear. Look, I’ll even the playing field a little bit. You can ask me anything, and I’ll answer honestly. I know what you’re going through is fucking balls, and not even you deserve it. Go on, shoot.” Jason said encouragingly. 

“Okay. How did you get to be so fucking ugly?” Damian asked irritably, sitting deeper in the booth. 

Jason sighed, glaring across the table. “I am strangely finding it _exceptionally_ difficult to be sympathetic here. If you want to play dirty, I’m all game. But, perhaps as Dickie says, that’s not very _mature_ of you, is it?”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “As if you are some angel? You are not one to talk at _all_ \- I don’t know if you could get any further from the poster child,” Damian accused sharply. 

“How I missed your glowing flattery, test tube baby. I’m not above punching your teeth in, so don’t act like I’m some softie like Goldie. Good genes don’t matter when you have no teeth. So just shut the fuck up before I lose my patience. I _know_ you haven’t talked to anyone. You look horrible. If you talk to me, I’ll trade you some information on Goldie and I know damn well that is something you wouldn't miss for the world. I’m trying to help you out here, idiot.” 

Damian shifted nervously, his heartbeat picking up at the mention of Dick. He _would_ do anything to know how he was doing, know literally anything about him. Every day he lived with Dick’s voice in the back of his mind, his scent in his nose when he went to sleep, and such a fierce ache for him that sometimes it was just too hard to do anything at all. _Yes._ Damian nodded quickly. 

“Excellent. Why did he dump you?” 

“Pass.” Damian answered automatically. At Jason’s displeased face, Damian rushed to think about how much he needed to say. This was his only chance. “Oddly, I misspoke just now, my apologies. Perhaps you could ask something a little less piercing.” Damian said dryly, hoping Jason didn’t see how much he was panicking. 

“Nope.” 

Damian bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes darting past Jason to look at the other customers in the cafe. The cafe was busy, lots of Gothamites eager for warm drinks inside and away from the biting snow. Dark wooden accents made the cafe feel even warmer, and Damian wished he didn’t know that Dick would love it there. “I said something I shouldn’t have.” Damian said shortly, looking away. Jason hummed slowly. 

“So, what did you say?” 

Damian’s hands started to shake, cold sweat lining his back. “Why must you ask that? You’ve been here three minutes and forty-four seconds and you already ask me that. Is it not enough to know that I have been broken? Is that not what you want?” Damian hissed, anger rising in his chest. Jason watched him, leaning back and swinging his arms around the top of the booth. 

“Surprisingly, no. It’s actually pretty pathetic to see you like this. It’s giving me second hand embarrassment. Come on, _talk_ , or I’m not telling you a thing about him. I heard about some stunt you pulled at a gala from Tim. Does that have anything to do with it?” 

Damian blinked quickly, trying to push past the lump in his throat. This was far more painful than he thought it could be. “I -yes. Regrettably.” Jason’s eyes narrowed, and Damian tried to push the words out. _Just say it._

“The half-demon Raven was there, and she flirted with Richard. I reacted, rather rashly, perhaps. Richard implied my envy was...out of control. And then later I...I don’t know why I said it. I implied he was going to leave me for her. That he would fuck her, make her feel loved and then leave her. And then I...I implied he would fuck anything that moves.” 

Poorly concealed surprise spread through Jason’s face, and Damian felt the hot heavy feeling of shame. “I didn’t mean it. I _don’t_ think that. I never have. But I knew it would hurt, and I just, I _wanted_ him to see that I just wanted him more than anything, that I was _hurting,_ and times like that I didn’t know why he even -”

“Why he picked you.” Jason finished quietly. Damian nodded shortly. Jason considered Damian, his fingers drumming on the top of the booth. Damian grabbed his now cold tea, bringing it up to his lips and hoping the rim was big enough to hide the tears at the corner of his eyes. It wasn’t. 

“I actually get that. I know what that’s like, on both sides. I used to be extra sensitive to Dick’s flames, but when I was younger, he was with Kory, which I can see is less threatening than your favorite Miss Roth. But now I think I’m on the flip side, and some of my flings have ended because I don’t stay in one place for long. But you can’t think that it’s like that. You have to think about how he could’ve had anyone, _has_ practically had anyone, but he picked you. Or, did.” 

Damian let the cold tea sit in his mouth for a second too long, wanting to drag on until he had to talk for as long as possible. Several beats of silence made Damian’s erratic shaking painfully obvious, and Damian focused on the little girl in the booth behind Jason to ground himself. She was smiling at Damian, her head peeking over the booth, and Damian could almost see the way Dick would have turned around and played with her, his warm laugh coaxing her out of her shyness. He _always_ attracted every young child around him without fail, with his kind eyes and easy grin. There had been countless times when they had been out in Bludhaven, and a child would stare at Dick, slowly coming closer to have his attention, and then all of a sudden Damian would feel jealous of some stupid six year old girl that was pulling Dick’s sleeve down. Then the mother would come over and apologize, and Dick would apologize himself, say it was a joy to meet miss whatever the dumb kid’s name was, and _then_ Damian had to watch the mother become captivated with _his_ beloved. The cycle was endless, it felt, because Dick’s reach really did feel endless. However, to Dick’s credit, he had always paid extra attention to Damian afterwards, which Damian supposed made up for it - he knew it wasn’t Dick’s fault. It still felt embarrassing to want to compete for Dick’s attention with a snotty toddler, but he knew that Dick was just a fallen star of light, and anyone and everyone wanted to bathe in it as long as they could. But it didn’t really matter, because he was the one that went home with Dick, he was the one that held Dick’s hand, it was just _him._ Because Dick was his. 

_Or was._

_Even if he still was, I need to be better about that._

Jason moved in front of the girl, his probing face disrupting the daydream. 

“But -” 

“No, Damian. No but. You can’t think like that, you’ll drive yourself insane. Dickie has always been super sensitive about criticism regarding his dating history, but I really think it’s because he _means_ it every time. He doesn’t play anyone, he puts everything in it. Doesn’t work out sometimes, but he moves on and keeps going because the fool’s such a lover. So, yeah, he loved others. But as much as it kills me to say it, like absolutely tears through my throat, now I think you were different.” 

“But clearly I _wasn’t_. I just hurt him.” Damian said lowly, remembering the anguish on Dick’s face the last time he saw him. 

“That’s the point, idiot. Don’t you see that - just, whatever. Last question, and then I’ll spill. But you have to be honest. Because this is important. What are you going to do, _now_ ?” Jason asked, his gaze sharpening. _What am I gonna do? What the hell does that mean?_

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you got dumped. Two, almost three months ago, too, although I’m sure you’re running the amount of seconds that have passed in your head like some Bruce shit. You’re really young. Say he still feels the same and he doesn’t want you. Say he gets a new lover. You see them together. What are you going to do then?” 

Damian stared. What _would_ he do? He hadn’t really thought about...Dick moving on. He kept Dick along with him in all that he did, his voice echoing every thing he did, almost as if Dick was dead. That was almost easier, in a sick, fucked up way, because it meant that _that_ was why they weren’t together anymore. That only death could split them - surely not splitting by _choice._ To grieve the loss of him even though he wasn’t really gone, but he was, at the same time. Reconciling that he wasn’t actually gone, but just away, felt wrong because then he wasn’t really growing, or letting _Dick_ grow, because he just lived in a time capsule of when they were happy together. _Is that selfish? Is that wrong?_ But that meant loving Dick from afar, _without_ the comfort of his ghost, without the other past life he so desperately wanted to live again. 

But he couldn’t _not_ think about Dick anymore - it was the only coping mechanism that made him feel like he could be alive. He was sure there were different opinions on how to cope, but Damian knew that he couldn’t disentangle his soul with Dick. But what if Dick was moving on? What if he was with someone else? Was in _love_ with someone that wasn’t him? That hurt more than when he broke up with Damian. Because at least then Damian still saw _love_ in Dick’s eyes _,_ even if it was so wrapped up in hurt that festered because Damian hadn’t said a damn thing. But if Dick _didn’t_ love him anymore, if his easy smile and soft touch was only for someone else....Damian didn’t know how he could process that. 

An image spun in his mind, of seeing Dick on the street, his hands wrapped around someone else’s waist, his beaming smile only for that one person, blind to everyone else. It just felt wrong, like it was nonsensical, like it was impossible, because what Damian felt between them was so real. It was everything - all Damian had known since he first met Dick. It wasn’t all Dick had ever known, but the way he looked at Damian before...it was real. He knew back then Dick meant everything he said, but perhaps at the root, Damian just hadn’t been sure if he deserved it and if the illusion would ever fade, and then Dick would move on. If he saw that truly come into fruition, he wasn’t sure what he could do. Because Dick picked that, and that would be what he wanted. Was that not what Damian relied on completely while leaving their apartment? That it was _what Dick wanted,_ and for true love, it didn’t matter whether it was what Damian wanted. He _gave_ Dick his heart, who would always have it, and there was no taking it back. He didn’t get to pick what Dick did. He didn’t get to pick what he wanted. _Who you want._

“I...I don’t know what I could do. I think it would kill me.” Damian admitted, his breath coming out fast. He felt lightheaded, and he didn’t know what to do with his hands, and he was tired of sitting there getting burned alive for Jason to watch. 

“But..?” Jason continued, his hands falling in his lap. “Say you run into Dick and he says he’s with someone else. What would you say to him?”

“I...don’t know. I would freeze. I couldn’t say anything to him. If he _picked_ that, if he was sure...It wouldn’t change anything. I just love him. Even if it was from afar. I would just want to tell him I love him.” Damian said honestly, the back of his eyes burning with tears again. He pushed his hands up, the heels of his hands pressing deep into his eyes, grounding him. He missed Jason’s appreciative nod. 

“I thought so. Do you wanna know what I think?” 

“Not particularly.” Damian said curtly, wanting so desperately to find some higher ground where he wasn’t so vulnerable. The little girl’s shy hand poked over the booth, and Damian felt the sting of tears again. 

“It was a rhetorical question then. I think you royally fucked up, but I know why you felt that. I get that. But you just can’t be so insecure. Hold on - don’t look so pissy. Or you just can’t let it show. No, actually, fuck that. You gotta _talk_ about that shit. Dick probably felt like you didn’t trust him, and coming from you, when you’ve only ever been devoted to him, I think that was unintentionally really devastating. That’s all I’ll say right now. Okay, _now_ I’ll tell you about Dickie.” 

Damian straightened, bony hands gripping the table. Jason’s mouth twitched up, but he sobered when he saw Damian’s eyes narrow angrily. 

“Now I haven’t seen him yet. I’m gonna try and catch him, because he’s been ignoring everyone. Even _Bruce._ Who I’m sure you know, is back I guess. I didn’t talk to him, obviously. But Tim caught Dick briefly. I heard he’s really different. Dick never comes here anymore. Tim just caught him once in Bludhaven. Anyways, needless to say, Timbo said he isn’t doing that well, like he didn’t talk or smile or do anything. Said he looked _mean,_ and he didn’t know if Dick was like, okay in the head anymore.” 

Damian leaned forward, desperate to hear more words about Dick, wanted Jason to never stop talking. “Different? How? Not okay?” 

Jason smirked, enjoying how easily he had Damian wired to his every word. “You know, I never got this type of attention when I was gone for _way_ longer than three months, like maybe when I was _dead._ ” 

“I’m sure you would find the answer for why in _therapy_ , far far away from me. Now _talk._ ” Damian snapped, his knuckles turning white from tension. 

Jason rolled his eyes. “Whatever. This is all just based on what Tim said. But I guess Dick was always shaking, like he’s got some nervous tic now, and I hear he’s sending thugs straight to the emergency room. Like, since when did Dickie do that? But he’s mostly just been in Bludhaven, and I heard he refused a lot of calls from the Titans, basically just anyone. So I don’t really know what he’s been up to for this long without going actually crazy.”

Damian frowned, imagining watching Dick use too much force and not care. It was hard, because he mostly loathed that - hated that Dick was struggling, and hurting enough that he was unstable. But Damian for a second hoped that he was still upset because of _him,_ that maybe he still cared. That maybe Dick was even a fraction of how devastated Damian was. 

“Have I - have I come up at all? Did he say anything at all?” Damian asked quietly, his face heating up. 

At that, Jason looked uncomfortable, and he closed his mouth. “Oh. I mean, I don’t really know if I should talk about _that._ You know, I - Damian, I think it would be better if there was still that kind of space in between you for now -” 

Damian stood up, slamming the table, his jade eyes blazing. He looked more like the Damian Jason always knew, wired to blow, his eyes burning fires that never hid what he was feeling at all. Nearby tables looked over in alarm, the waitress watching fearfully. “No. Tell me _right_ fucking now.” 

Jason shifted awkwardly, looking up at Damian’s face. “Tim asked if he’s talked to you at all since, well, you know. Dick said...he said that he didn’t want to talk about you. He said that he was done with everything in Gotham. Then he ditched Tim.” Jason finally said dully, finally feeling the weight of the statement he had initially overlooked. 

Damian couldn’t stop the gasp of pain that came out, and he sat down slowly, his hands pressing into his chest. _Everything in Gotham? Everything?_ How could Damian be so selfish, to hope even for a second that Dick’s instability meant he was even half as broken without Damian as Damian was without him? And how could he interpret that any differently - how could he spin some fantasy that Dick was always with him, when he knew now that Dick was done with everything? Not even just him, but the entire family. How did that even work? Dick had always been the core of the family, the light that drew all members to him, and now he didn’t want that anymore. _Did I ruin everything for him?_ Damian couldn’t not believe this, even if it felt so starkly different from when they had broken up - because then there was still _feeling_ in it. 

“But I’m gonna see him, see what he’s like. I don’t know if that’s all true. And I don’t know what will happen for you both, but I will say at the end of it all, I think I understand you a little better. I know you really love him. And I know you wanna hole back up and never come out again, but you can’t do that. I’m your only link to him, so you can’t disappear on me. Got it?” 

Damian let his head fall into his hands, the cool feeling of the table making his tears feel even hotter. “Why are you doing this, Todd? What do you _get_ out of this?” Damian’s broken reply came out, and Jason squirmed, eyes looking over Damian’s depressing form. 

Silence answered Damian, and he looked up slowly, eyes red from crying, his face broken. Jason shrugged, wanting to insult Damian for something so it felt less vulnerable to wish _good_ for him. Jason opened his mouth to deflect, but nothing came out. Damian curled his lip, disliking the weight of the silence. 

“I don’t know. I guess, it just...sucks. And now that I really think about it, I don’t see Dick coming back if you two don’t figure it all out.” 

“Why do you even care? Isn’t this the kind of thing you _wanted_ to happen to the family?” Damian asked tersely, face closing off. 

Jason frowned, his brows furrowed, and his frame froze up defensively. “Listen, brat, I don’t need to say a damn thing. _You’re_ the one with your heart shattered in a bazillion pieces, so don’t try and ask me shit when it’s none of your business. I just helped your ungrateful ass, so really, you should be _thanking_ me.” 

Damian considered Jason, pushing down the initial surge of aggression that threatened to spill out. He was right. He didn’t need to do anything nice for Damian - if anything, he had reason to make it _worse._ Damian grit his teeth, frustrated. _Be thankful, idiot._

“I - yes. I apologize, Todd. Thanks.” Damian said stiffly, arms crossing protectively over his hammering heart. 

Jason nodded curtly, hand coming up to run through his hair. “Well, just, pick up if I call you. And get a hobby or something, I don’t know. I don’t know how long this will take but it won’t work if I do all this work to fix it and then I set Dick up with you and you look like _that_.” Damian frowned, his shoulders rising self-consciously. 

Jason stood up awkwardly, unsure how to end their talk, hands in his jacket pockets. He looked around for something to say, something to make it less obvious that he showed Damian kindness _willingly_ . He turned his head to look at the little girl who had been peeking over, staring at Damian shamelessly. “And _you._ You gotta spy a little better. I could hear you breathing so deep in my ear I think my left ear is shot out.” 

The little girl giggled shyly, ignoring Jason and continuing to look over at Damian. “I think he’s _beautiful_.” The little girl said, eyes going over to Damian, who blinked in surprise. Jason’s face pulled back in exasperation. He looked back to see that the girl’s mother was passed out on the booth, remnants of a line of coke on the table. Jason shifted uncomfortably, realizing that they were probably the only thing the girl could pay any attention to. Jason watched as the girl kept smiling at Damian, and he wanted to keep her smiling.

“Of course, it’s fine to destroy my eardrums to look at pretty boy over there. It’s the eyes, isn’t it? Well, I have some unfortunate news for you, little lady.” Jason leaned down conspiratorially, his large hand giving them privacy from Damian’s uncomfortable look. 

“ _He loves Dick. Like completely, totally in love with Dick.”_ Jason whispered loudly, enjoying the way Damian’s face hardened and the way that the girl had absolutely no idea what he was saying at all, which was unfortunate because there was only so many times he could make the ever tasteful and layered _Dick_ joke.

“Who’s Dick?” 

“Well, it’s a who and a _what,_ actually -” 

“ _Todd!_ Silence. You’re abhorrent.” Damian snapped, discomfort rising as the little girl scrutinized him even further. 

Jason laughed, watching Damian turn to leave. The little girl looked up at Jason in confusion, tilting her head, and Jason looked down fondly. Damian cast one disgruntled look over his shoulder, turning from the front desk, before leaving the cafe and braving the snow outside. Jason barely blinked and Damian was already gone, which was very familiar. The waitress came over slowly, and Jason put on a wry smile. “I’m guessing he didn’t pay? Dirty bastard. I wanted to order a whole lunch on his tab.” 

The waitress smiled nervously, before shaking her head. “Oh, no, he did. He paid for the little girl to have lunch too. Will the coffee be all today, sir?” 

Jason sobered, looking back at the little girl who began to take renewed interest in the menu. “Oh. Really? How did he pay for all that?” Jason asked, fully knowing that Damian had very little resources after going it alone. 

“Mostly small bills, some coins. I’ll come back for both of your orders.” The waitress said, smiling when the little girl came over excitedly to sit in the booth across from Jason. Jason looked back at her passed out mom, already seeing how different his afternoon was gonna pan out with the little girl. _Lunch, then I’ll figure whatever the fuck you need to go._

“Huh. I guess your surly crush isn’t actually the worst person in the world. Who woulda thought.” 

“What does surly mean? Does he have a girlfriend? Do you think he would like me?” The little girl whispered quickly, blushing. 

“Jeez, lady, what are you, like eight? I know he’s attractive but believe me, he’s the grinch. Besides, he’s _taken_.” 

The little girl scowled, putting the menu down. “Well, is she prettier than me?” The little girl said, straightening dramatically and batting her eyelashes. 

“Ah. You’re quite pretty, but Damian’s got eyes for someone else. For like, _ever._ You know, he’s in _love_.” Jason said theatrically.

The little girl’s eyes bulged, and she moved forward quickly, taking up most of the table top. “Like _true_ love?” She whispered loudly, her small hands splayed out to show the gravity of the thought. 

Jason smiled, looking out the window to catch Damian’s grim form getting smaller in the distance, his stiff posture and dark turtleneck so obviously Damian, even so far away. Jason hummed, pleased he followed his gut. After he heard about everything with Tim, who was less than sympathetic to Damian’s plight, Jason couldn’t stop feeling like he should do _something_ to help. _And you need a lot of it, brat._ It was a foreign feeling, this _empathy_ for the youngest Wayne, but Jason couldn’t shake the feeling like he was doing the right thing. Jason picked up his menu, knowing what he needed to make happen.

“You know, I just might think so. Now, what are you getting?” 

\---

In Damian’s peripheral, he saw a distant explosion at the North River Shoale docks, and he felt his tracker buzz in emergency at the same time. Damian curled his lip, knowing that he needed to go because his father only sent out an emergency alert if it was truly necessary. Turning abruptly, Damian sprinted to dive off the roof, grappler shooting out onto the next building. _Maybe he will be there._ Damian neglected to account his desperate speed to get to the docks as anything less than concern for his father, not for the possibility of seeing a certain acrobat. 

\---

Damian slid down from the fire escape, flipping to land in front of the door of the warehouse. The Riddler’s voice boomed, snarkily calling his father a fool, before Damian heard Nygma choke loudly over the intercom. Damian burst through the door, ready to fight, eyes zipping around to take in the devastation of the warehouse. He saw his father choking the Riddler on the upper wooden beams. Dick flipped backwards, avoiding a shot from a henchman, and Damian watched, mesmerized, as Dick cut through the air with deadly precision. Dick ducked, kicking a muscled leg out to take the feet out of the front three henchmen, who fell and met Dick’s sharp kick to the face. Damian could hear the snap of their jaws, could see the way their bodies fell that it was harder than Dick’s normal kicks. Dick snarled when the last two henchmen charged forward, rolling to the side to spring up on his feet, ever so light on his feet that he looked like belonged in the air. Dick pulled out his escrima sticks, brandishing them with a flare, and Damian was half expecting his usual grin, or his snarky tone that always came with some painful one-liner. 

Damian didn’t see Dick smile at all, but watched him slam his escrima sticks hard down on the last henchmen’s heads, their bodies falling awkwardly over each other with Dick glaring over them. Bruce had cuffed Nygma, holding his limp form roughly as he jumped down to meet Dick. 

“ _There_. I’m leaving now.” Dick said coldly to Bruce, who scowled. 

“He didn’t even come. I’d be surprised if he did, since he hides in the shadows whenever he sees me. You’re overreacting, Nightwing.” Bruce said gruffly, twisting the unconscious Nygma to lay on the ground. 

Dick snarled, advancing onto Bruce. “I’m _overreacting?_ Is that what it is now? You don’t understand anything. I said I’m _done._ As in, I can’t fucking do it anymore. And you choose the night where Hood and Red Robin are off on some stupid mission you sent them on to call out an emergency when you didn’t even need it - when you _know_ I said I’m done here. Well, I fucking came.” 

Bruce stiffened, glaring down at Dick. “Do not act like I agreed to your foolish declaration. I told you that you two shouldn’t have become entangled with one another. It never works out.” 

“Oh, great, thanks! Thanks for the fucking reminder! You’re right, it’s that simple, silly me. So I was just supposed to keep it locked inside forever, and never be happy? How _excellent_ that’s gone for you. Look how _happy_ you are! None of you understand how _fucked_ everything is. And how it doesn’t fucking matter what I do! You don’t get _anything._ You never fucking did.” Dick hissed, turning around sharply and grappling up to the second story to leave. Bruce glared after him, his fists clenched. 

Damian felt all the air rush out of his body, seeing Dick just a handful of feet away just a second ago. He felt as if he swallowed his tongue, he couldn’t get any words out, just replay the sight of _Dick_ that he had missed for so long. Dick had looked rough, his stubble coming in, dark underbags that peeked from under his mask, his fists clenching erratically. 

The slam of the door behind Dick broke the dream, and Damian wheezed, falling to his knees. His chest felt like it was compressing, getting smaller and smaller, and his mind replayed how Dick looked again and again, and he wanted to touch him so bad, wanted everything about him again so bad, wanted to feel _loved_ again. Damian felt like he was spiraling, his head pounding, sweat lining his back. He heard the quick snap of his father’s cape, and felt his presence over him the next heartbeat. His father’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder, turning him, and Damian barely saw his father’s face before him. 

“Damian. Deep breaths. Put your head between your knees.” Bruce’s low bartone filled his head, and Damian had missed _other_ voices, missed hearing his family, missed listening to people, and he immediately let his head drop. The compressing feeling of Damian’s chest continued, and he wasn’t sure he could take it anymore, and hot tears lined his face, his back shaking violently with the release. Bruce looked down in surprise, his hands awkwardly gathering Damian in his lap to hold him close. 

Bruce rocked Damian back and forth, his cape covering Damian from the glare of the lights above. Damian cried harder, hands fisting his father’s cape tightly, and he didn’t _care_ anymore, didn’t care about being quiet or not being weak, because seeing Dick hurt so much, made his chest burn and ache. 

“I miss him so much, Father.” Damian whispered, feeling shame wash over him, because he was supposed to keep it together, was supposed to continue loving him from afar, but it was so _hard,_ the hardest thing he’d ever done, when Dick was just right there, and Damian didn’t know when he would see him again or if he hated him or _anything_ about him anymore. Bruce shifted, leaning his weight back, and he let the admission wash over him. 

“I know.” Bruce murmured quietly. 

Damian twisted, pushing back against Bruce’s chest, feeling his hurricane of emotions swell in _anger_ this time. 

“ _No._ You don’t. You _don’t_ know. Dick is right. You don’t get it.” Damian snarled, spilling out on the floor roughly. He stood up quickly, shame and fear making his skin burn, that deep aching in his chest from finally seeing Dick again - it was all too much. 

“I have _nothing!_ And I just have to live with that. You can still see him, you can still _love_ him. But I have _nothing._ I _ruined_ everything.” Damian’s broken voice rang out in the empty warehouse, and for a split second he felt bad, because his father looked so uncomfortable, and it wasn’t really fair to take out his hurt on the first person he could, but otherwise it would simmer for the endless months alone he already knew he had coming, and it was just so _lonely._

Bruce straightened off the ground stiffly, his posture awkward. “Are you leaving again?” 

“I can’t ever leave him.” Damian whispered, turning to head out the door he came from. “Just leave me alone.” 

Bruce watched Damian slip out the door, his green boots fading into black. The empty warehouse mocked him, and he stood stiffly, trying to reconcile the night’s events with his judgements. Nygma’s gasp of pain as he woke up pulled Bruce back, and he stalked over the groaning man who was oblivious to the fury coming off Bruce in waves. 

Nygma coughed, turning over to look up at Bruce. “Think you outsmarted me, Dark Knight? Nonsensical, the very notion makes the mere combination of those words in a sentence impossible. This is all par-” 

Bruce stepped on Nygma’s tied hands, Nygma’s scream of pain echoing around them. “Shut _up._ ” Bruce snarled, his temper flaring. 

He supposed he may have...misjudged the depth between his sons. It was unfortunate, then, that both of them were not talking to each other, or to him, for that matter. 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty! so the next chapter is gonna have a big Realization for both of our boys, especially dick (since he is the more problematically melodramatic one), and then we are on the road for them coming back together, and holy shit do i gotta make that worth it. Seeing them split up further reinforces my thought that dick would spiral and just not deal with it well at all, eventually trying to reconcile it with "this was supposed to happen" and a lot of self-hatred. damian is just lost, and sad, and on the journey to become self aware but damn it's sad to see. i hope you liked jason in this story, especially since this is a kinda new role that he doesn't feel like he normally would want, but i wanted to feel some sort of tug of, hey, i should check on them and help out (even if he is a little biased at first). But i think he understands damian a little better, and even comes to respect him for the true, deep love he has for dick. I'm excited for the next chapter(s)! I hope you are too :,) thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! i am fired, this took so long and for what. (chemistry that is why it took so long >:( i am almost positive there will be just one more chapter after this, and that is of course, the climax (in more ways than one ;) of the story. I am writing it now and I'm very excited to wrap this up. now in this one, there is more Realizing and a lot of it happens because of our dear jason, so I hope you appreciate that. I'll talk more about it at the end. for now, bring on the drama!

\---

“Hurry the fuck up! I’m gonna freeze my ass off here.” Jason called up irritably, kicking off the snow that was already piling on his boots.

Damian grit his teeth, grabbing his scarf and stuffing it in his sketching bag. He had woken up to his tracker buzzing from Jason’s incessant calling, and then a chunk of ice being thrown up at his balcony. Sadly, Jason had not been lying when he said he did know vaguely where Damian was. Damian had left his canvas propped up on his balcony from a couple days before, which he was sure was how Jason found his exact unit. Thankfully, it seemed like Jason hadn’t told his father exactly where he was, although Damian was sure his father probably knew anyways. His father didn’t press to see if he was okay after the first unanswered call, and for once, Damian appreciated his father's shortcomings. 

He wasn’t certain how many days it had been since he had seen Dick, but it didn’t really matter. That night had been exceptionally difficult, one of the hardest ones he’d had since he left Dick’s apartment. Since then, time didn’t run the same, didn’t rely on the same increments when Damian just laid in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling his heart splinter apart again and again _.  _ He was sure he was dissociating in some capacity, because he felt oddly numb, that is until a certain thought would prick harder than the last. Then it became hard to breathe, Damian’s hands shooting out across the bed to even just hold onto the polaroid, his head dipping to smell the finite scent of Dick’s sweater. It was like a high, Damian surmised, and he understood a little better how addiction drove every thought, every action, entirely warped and remade a person. Although, usually the addiction was accessible, virtually infinite. How cruel to be addicted to a diluted memory, falling farther and farther from his mind, to only see Dick again and wither under the lost opportunity of getting him  _ one more time.  _ He would’ve given everything up for  _ one more time,  _ but his addiction wasn’t the same as the crack being sold on the corner of his street. 

Jason had yelled up at him until Damian finally got out of bed, and then asked if he wanted to go to the park and to bring his “ _ gay little drawing bag _ .” Well, Damian  _ didn’t  _ really want to _ ,  _ but he knew that wasn’t really what mattered. It would not do well to piss Jason off when Jason seemed to be the only person he could talk to. With that being said, he was not exempt from Damian's _occasional_ temper.

“Then  _ freeze.  _ Maybe you’ll finally  _ shut  _ up.” Damian snapped over the balcony, before heading over to the compressed front door. It could actually still open, although it was difficult, and then there was a mess of rubble to push through to get to an eventual semi-stable fire escape. Dropping down on the sidewalk, Damian glanced at Jason warily, pulling his thin jacket tighter. 

“I’m assuming you aren’t going to tell me anything until we arrive at the park. Correct?”

“Presumptuous as ever. I don’t have anything new to tell you. There’s a popup hot chocolate tent in Gotham Park that I wanted to go to.” 

“What? That’s it? Why couldn’t you have gone with Drake?” Damian queried, genuinely confused. 

“He’s busy doing some decoding shit and told me to piss off. I already told you I was gonna check up on you to make sure you’re not dead. So shut up and let’s go. I’m not going  _ alone  _ like some loser.” Jason responded, taking off towards Gotham Park. Damian narrowed his eyes but followed Jason. 

Looking over his shoulder back at his apartment, Damian frowned. Not one to be ungrateful, of course, but he wasn’t entirely keen to just  _ hang out  _ with Jason. He supposed it was rather insolent of him to only try and use Jason for information, but it wasn’t really personal (at least anymore). He forced his legs forward, disliking how the bite of the cold so easily cut through his slacks. When he was more muscled, and less  _ sad,  _ it didn’t matter what temperature it was - he had paid little mind. He could withstand insane temperatures - had been able to since the League, but perhaps mental strength was more of a factor than he had originally thought. 

The city was a rare shining white, a bright late morning sun dancing off of ice slicked streets and snow mounds. People passed by quickly, more often than not casting a scrutinizing look towards Damian, but so far, no one had ever truly recognized him. He looked much older than the last time he had openly been in the Wayne press, seeing as he had left to live in Bludhaven. He knew he didn’t look as refined as he did then, looking more gaunt and haunted than before, but he knew he was still just as striking, because it didn’t matter what he did - eyes had always followed him.  _ Never the ones I want.  _

“Let me guess. You’re using sketching as a totally healthy coping mechanism and  _ not  _ drawing a certain someone. Don’t tell me. You drew me and you’re floored by how attractive I am.” Jason said arrogantly, tilting his head towards Damian. Damian rolled his eyes, tightening his hold on his bag. 

“Without fail, your ego is exceedingly disproportional. Rather in need of  _ trimming.  _ Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” Damian muttered, focusing on sidestepping a deceivingly shallow snow puddle. 

“Well I don’t want your drawings anyways. Do you actually still draw him?” Jason asked seriously. 

“Of course I do. Art is the confirmation of everything beautiful. The manipulation of reality to show the true depth of something. I have never nor will never have a muse that is not him.” Damian answered, risking showing Jason more of his vulnerable self. It did feel so liberating to talk about Dick, the impulsive thought that seemingly lived on the tip of his tongue. Even if it hurt, because it was  _ more  _ of Dick, in any way, a new way to think about him, a new way to fall in love with the littlest of things and feel it happen all over again. 

Jason hummed, his eyes far off. “Huh. I guess that makes sense, seeing as you’re well,  _ you.  _ Have you always drawn him then?” 

“Yes. Since the beginning. I was not discreet. He saw the pieces I drew, moments from some of our first patrols, or trainings, or...I did not discriminate. I’ve always drawn him. But I don’t do it correctly anymore. I always ruin it now. It’s as if the picture I see is blurry, and I can only squint so much before it just...leaves.”

“Did he like them?” 

“I believe so. He often felt embarrassed, as if he was undeserved. But he always smiled in the same soft way. He wouldn’t ever say anything, looking at it, but I don’t think he knew what to say. I never knew exactly what he was thinking.” 

Jason slowed down, looking awkward. “Is...is it helpful to talk about him or do you think it’s...not that helpful? I know your decision hasn’t changed, but doesn’t it, I don’t know, hurt? To talk about him when you don’t know what will happen? Or are you just a sick fuck like me?” Jason glanced at Damian pointedly, his face red from the cold. 

Damian’s mouth twitched up in amusement. Perhaps he was a little masochistic. But it felt so  _ good  _ to talk about him fondly, with someone who knew Dick, that the haze of the last couple of days seemed far away. “My personal inclinations whether or not it hurts should be readily apparent. I do not base my decisions on something as insignificant as  _ pain _ .” Damian scoffed. “I am proud of anything about him. It helps to talk about him. It is rather...nice not to be alone with the thought of him.” 

Jason laughed, puffs of warm air floating up. “In short, you are a sick little fuck. You know, I’ve always loved people who won’t love me back. It seems like we were just meant to get our hearts broken.” Jason said, his eyes daring Damian to say something. Damian’s eyes narrowed fractionally before he schooled his face - that was  _ not  _ really what he had meant. But it wasn’t entirely false. It certainly felt like it was true. Besides, vulnerabilities were the most important currency in the superhero community, and from Jason, no less, perhaps it was wiser to just let it go. 

“ _ But,  _ if you think it’s not realistic to not talk about him, then okay. I have no idea what I would do if I was in your shoes, honestly.” 

Damian shrugged, not really sure what to say. He didn’t know any other way to “deal” with everything. Jason lengthened his strides as they turned the corner, the gate of Gotham Park in sight. Damian pushed off the ground harder to catch up with him, never quite able to squash the competitive feeling any one of the Bat brothers gave him. There were white hills of snow and black barren trees in the park, and the crunch of snow under the pair’s feet was the only sound between them. 

At the hot chocolate stand, Jason forced Damian to get one despite his protests. The older lady heading it gave Damian an extra large one, saying it was rude to refuse a drink. Damian could almost feel Dick’s steady hand on his arm pulling him back from saying something he shouldn’t. He  _ was  _ getting better about it by himself, but it was much easier to care about when he knew it would disappoint Dick. Damian glared at the older lady, but he held his tongue. 

“You could at least pretend to be fun. And no fucking whipped cream? You know, it’s things like this that make me think you make your life worse on purpose.”

Damian rolled his eyes, repulsed by the mountain of whipped cream Jason had gotten. “Don’t tempt me. Find a place to sit, asshole.” 

They walked deeper into Gotham Park, a comfortable silence building, until a bench overlooking the frozen pond caught Jason’s eye and they sat down. While Jason slurped loudly, Damian opened his sketchbook, hands holding his pencil tightly. The expectation to draw something was inexplicably suffocating - every second that went by he felt more and more unable to just sit and be alone with his thoughts. But he tried to ground himself and pull all his loose parts together; it would be a waste to not funnel his hurricane of emotions over the last few days into something. 

The bright sun reflected off the frozen pond, Gotham’s high skyline dwarfing the tall black trees. Damian let his mind wander to where it always went, hoping he wouldn’t dig too deep and lose his head around Jason. 

Jason looked on patiently, through Damian’s rough strokes and muttered curses. It really was beautiful. The sun painted the sketch of Dick in a soft warmth, and Jason was ready to bet all his money that it was one of the faces Dick had had after a soft morning together. The lines were too sharp, the bleeding of the pencil too uneven to really be Damian’s old work, but it was beautiful in a different way that felt more raw. Damian was right, art  _ was  _ a confirmation of beauty. Jason could tell the love Damian poured in each press to the paper, in the way he made Dick look so beautiful, but coarse, like he wasn’t entirely there. As if he had just run up to them for a quick pose, his blue eyes shining and perfect smile wide, and then ran away, Damian left behind trying to piece every detail together. 

“Hm. You got his stupidly perfect nose right.” Jason said over the lid of his hot chocolate. Damian slowed, looking down. He stared at his sketch, Dick’s soft grin looking up at him. He did get Dick’s nose right. It had been months since Dick had looked at him like that, the morning light illuminating soft wavy hair, highlighting the small bump in the bridge of his nose. That picture in particular was so vivid in his mind, the rush of emotions felt brand new. It  _ hurt  _ to feel it so vividly, but he let himself sit in it this time, encouraged by Jason’s steady presence. Inevitably, the loss felt suffocating, but the memory was so addicting Damian didn’t want to hide away from it. He felt frustrated, like he was on a bridge looking down, and the plunge of analyzing why he lost everything dared him to jump. He didn’t like to think much on the _exact_ details of the split - that proved to be a little too masochistic for most days, but the question pushed harder and harder to the front of his mind, and it had grown stronger in his denial. 

_ Why did I fuck it up?  _

Damian looked up, his jaw set as he looked at the frozen pond. Why didn’t he just  _ say  _ sorry?  _ I was afraid.  _ But he had been scared when he first confessed his love to Dick, and he was fully expecting a harsh rejection then. But once he had Dick...his whole life cemented into  _ us vs. them,  _ and the thought that there were others that wanted Dick for themselves, wanted to take Dick from him - it had grown obsessively. To think the only way he could lose Dick was from the outside.  _ Fool.  _

And in thinking so, he had been blind to how he was forcing it to happen from the inside. Damian bared his teeth, clenching his fist in frustration. How utterly  _ vacuous.  _ How thoroughly foolish, to undermine something, no,  _ someone _ like  _ Dick,  _ with his paranoia that he just couldn’t seem to keep under control. Had Dick ever shown any interest in an ex while he was with him?  _ No.  _ Had he ever sought them out instead of the other way around?  _ No.  _ Damian knew from the start he would always have a little trouble being possessive, because Dick truly had always been his  _ everything.  _ But he let it grow and fester, until it made him overlook everything Dick promised. 

Damian sighed, the weight of the knowledge making him feel small. It had been an endless, grueling process for him to accept, albeit poorly, Dick’s disappearance from his life, that he just felt ground down, like there were scrapes of him on the ground and it was getting harder to pull them together every day he woke up. 

Jason watched Damian carefully, sensing that Damian was not far from a breakdown. “Hey. I’m glad you had him. Even if nothing ever happens again. Try and pull from the good. Bring it with you everywhere. But let yourself grow, yeah?” Jason bumped Damian’s shoulder, watching the way Damian’s tight face softened. 

_ Let yourself grow.  _ Damian exhaled slowly, trying to focus. His body ached, his chest felt like it was being crushed, and he knew he could lose it if he lost focus for a second. But he didn’t  _ want  _ that anymore, he was tired of it. Dick was gone. He didn’t know what would happen.  _ He might never talk to me again. I need to grow.  _ He hadn’t really done any real growing. Mostly he had been limping along, buoyed only by the memory or scent of Dick, but he wasn’t  _ better.  _ Was that not  _ why  _ Dick had felt he needed to leave?  _ Grow the fuck up,  _ Dick had said.

_ I didn’t trust you. I didn’t just apologize. I let my jealousy ruin us. I made you feel like your love was less than.  _

Damian held his hands tightly, unaware of the way Jason was looking at him worriedly. “I wish I could apologize to him. Just talk to him one last time.” Damian admitted quietly, sweat forming between his shaky hands. 

Jason put down his hot chocolate on the bench, and looked out at the pond. His rough timbre broke through the delicate silence. “I hope you do. I think you guys are supposed to be together. But sometimes that doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t end up like that. But you still have to keep going. Love is fucked like that.” 

“I won’t ever stop loving him the same.” Damian turned to look at Jason defiantly, his black turtleneck twisting over tensed muscles. 

“I know. That’s not what I said.” 

Damian considered Jason, leaning back into the bench. “I will always revolve him. My love supersedes any distance or time.” Damian’s voice fell, his hands stilling over his sketch. “I know why he did what he did. I just wish I could apologize. I would let him walk away. I just want him to know.” 

“I think that’s growth right there.” Jason mumbled, his hand going to grab Damian’s shoulder gently. 

Damian’s mouth twitched up gratefully, and he leaned into Jason’s hand briefly. He looked down at his sketchpad, his chest aching a little less. A family of ducks waddled by, one of the braver ducklings darting forward to sniff Damian’s hot chocolate down by his shoes. Damian blinked in surprise, but he quickly leaned down to pay attention to the tiny visitor. 

“Ah ah, you can’t have chocolate. Here.” Damian fished in his pocket, pulling out a couple of stale bread crumbs. He always brought some bread to the park on the very rare occasions he left his apartment for something that wasn’t patrol. His bread wasn’t as good as it used to be, being very stale, since money was rather tight on his own. “There you go.” The duckling grabbed a crumb quickly, and the mother duck came hurriedly only for Damian to widen his hand and offer more. 

“You’re like Pocahontas. Or is it Snow White? I don’t remember.” Jason grinned, amused at how popular Damian was rapidly becoming. 

“Richard used to run and buy bread if we found ducks and I didn’t bring any. I didn’t even ask him, he’d just take off with this grin, and he’d come back with his windswept hair and the most gourmet bread. My last birthday he took me to Bludhaven Park, and he set up this whole picnic, and we sat and fed ducks all afternoon. I think every duck in Bludhaven got fed on my birthday.” Damian said fondly, remembering how much he smiled that day. 

Jason closed his open mouth, watching Damian. He usually never heard Damian talk more than a couple sentences at a time, and before all this he had never heard much about the intricacies of his relationship with Dick. Jason had been pretty upset at hearing the news they got together for obvious reasons, but he spent enough time away from them that he never really got to see what they were like. 

“He brought all my drawing supplies, and watched me draw all day. Then he helped me make dinner, although he proved to be less than helpful.” Damian said, smiling. Jason nodded knowingly, Dick’s talents did not extend into the culinary realm no matter how hard he tried. “He showed me this program he helped set up at the pound. An improved foster care system of sorts, that meant they were all no-kill shelters. He worked on it for months. Then...he made the bedroom all romantic, and...I felt loved. It was one of the happiest days of my life.” Damian admitted. 

“Wow. Totally, my life has been just  _ chock  _ full of memories like that. I can’t even pick, I have too many.” Jason said dramatically, while Damian’s mouth twitched up in amusement. “Maybe if I cry hard enough tonight God will start to feel bad for me.” Jason grumbled, watching the white sheen on the frozen pond again. “What’s the stupid quote? Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Something annoying and ugly like that. What an ugly, ugly quote.” 

Damian hummed distractedly, for the first time really feeling wholly grateful in the past couple of months. He had previously felt like his failed devotion was more of a curse, though he loathed to imply that it was  _ bad  _ in any way. Because it wasn’t. It was  _ so  _ good that the loss of it felt at times like he was going to die. But Jason was right. To  _ not  _ have been touched by Dick, or loved by Dick, or get the chance to love Dick...that was unthinkable. He could revolve around Dick, with or without the endless memories, but he supposed he should be more grateful than anything that he had any at all. 

“The great poet Alfred Lord Tennyson.  _ ‘I feel it, when I sorrow most; ‘tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’ _ ” Damian recalled easily. “Indeed it is.” He continued quietly, but the inside of his mind was running a mile a minute. It  _ was  _ completely right, and the more Damian thought about it, the more he felt like he was starting to fully understand the gift he had been given. Jason scowled, hands flying up dismissively. 

“Whatever, sounds like some prissy poetry to me. I’m stealing your hot chocolate. How is that you are so depressed and yet you still find a way to make me feel jealous?” 

Damian reached down to pat the mother duck gently. “I am at the lowest of my lows, and yet I continue to beat you. I do hope you choke on it.” The banter felt natural, if a little barbed. It was proving to be far more comforting to be with Jason than Damian ever thought possible.  _ Odd.  _

“Bless your test tube heart. I do choke, actually. I’m not celibate like  _ you _ are over that man.” Jason said loftily, while Damian curled his lip distastefully. 

“You are disg-” 

“I can’t hear you over my life filled with sex.” 

“It seems like it’s going just  _ splendidly. _ Just absolutely fulfilling.” Damian sniped. “A night with him is enough to tide me over a  _ million  _ lifetimes, idiot. You simply wouldn’t understand.” Damian said haughtily. 

“No, I don’t think I would.” Jason muttered finally as Damian continued to sketch beside him. He watched the lines on the page come to life, entranced by the way it almost felt like he could see the memory too. He didn’t think he’d ever seen love that was ever so deep, so true. And yet, he still didn’t feel keen on telling Damian more about why he wasn’t actually the worst person ever, or how his love and loyalty to Dick was actually really admirable. For all of the things about Damian that still irritated the hell out of him, the way he loved was something that Jason felt lucky to see at all. Because  _ that  _ was what he wanted, what anyone wanted. The love that completely brought a person to life, made every part of them glow, the one that transcended distance or time or death. And even if Damian never got Dick again, well. He was already blessed beyond with what Jason secretly hoped for in his darkest, loneliest nights. 

\---

  
  


Dick cracked his knuckles, looking at the swelling on almost all of his fingers. Bruises weren’t uncommon at all to find underneath his suit, but on his hands, unless there was a particularly bad night, the extra reinforcing on his gauntlets usually protected his hands. All his knuckles were dark purple, tinges of a sickly green underneath, from recent bruises that hadn’t healed yet. He stared down at them, mesmerized with the dark colors on his skin. The soft warm light of his apartment made the bruises richer. 

His tracker buzzed again on the table. He didn’t bother looking anymore. He had several calls from the family and various friends worried for him, but he felt like he would do more work to tell them he was fine and comfort them than get any comfort himself, and that was if he felt like he deserved any anyway. Most notably, though, was Raven, and while he actually felt the soothing and level-headed rasp of hers would calm him down, it felt wrong. To accept help, and from Raven no less, when her interest started this whole thing. It didn’t matter. Dick flexed his hand, trying not to flinch from the jolt of pain running up his hands. 

A sudden scrape sounded behind him, and Dick turned. He saw the fire escape outside of his window swung wildly, and Dick’s sharp eyes focused, his body tensing defensively. 

“Jesus, is there a weight limit for this shit? Not very inclusive of you, Dickie bird.” Jason puffed, leather gloves gripping the window ledge awkwardly. 

Dick curled his lip, rising from his chair warily. “It’s hanging on by two bolts. It’s not meant to be used anymore. More  _ importantly _ , I did not invite you over.” 

Jason swung himself in, one leg pushing against the fire escape for leverage, until it snapped and flew off, a distant crack on the ground sounding below Jason a beat later. Dick lunged forward to grab Jason by the collar, pulling him inside, looking outside to see the smashed fire escape on the street below. Dick’s temper spiked, and he whirled around to catch Jason grinning at him. 

“What the  _ fuck  _ is your problem? I don’t fucking want you here.” Dick hissed, advancing on Jason. 

“I have tons of problems, really. And while I’m flattered you care enough for a little impromptu therapy session, I’m here to talk about  _ your  _ problems. I’ve found charity work is a very fulfilling hobby. Not that you would know, since you’ve ignored  _ all  _ my calls. You are well aware I don’t deal with rejection well, and yet, here we are.” Jason smirked over his shoulder, going over to sit on the couch. 

“Damn, bitch! Glass on the  _ couch? _ ” Jason grunted, shifting glass shards away to sit down. He sat down with a sigh, legs crossed, arms spread wide on the top of the couch. Jason looked around distastefully at the wrecked apartment, ignoring Dick’s withering look. 

“Alright, gonna be honest here. Kinda thought you’d be doing a little bit better. I know you have a temper, but for real? Like  _ this?  _ Maybe I  _ am  _ the most mature one.” 

“Fuck you. It’s none of your goddamn business what I do. I don’t want any help. I don’t want anyone. I know what I’m doing.” Dick snapped, his jaw tense. 

“Do you? Because I don’t actually think you do. You  _ need  _ help. You’re fucked up right now. You’re just punishing yourself. Just  _ talk  _ to me for once, Dick.” Jason pleaded, his voice losing some of its roughness. 

“No. Get out.” Dick said quietly, his blue eyes cold. 

“Alright, fuckhead. I do so love a receptive audience. I’ll start then. So you broke up with the brat. You’re clearly doing awfully. This place is a mess.  _ You’re  _ a mess. You don’t come to Gotham anymore. You ignore everyone’s calls. You ditched Tim mid-mission because he asked you if you had talked to the squirt. Basically ripping my head off when I’m trying to  _ help _ . Have you even smiled  _ once  _ since you guys split?” Jason demanded, leaning forward. 

“I don’t know what you think would happen. Did you think I would just move on quickly, fuck someone else? Think I was going to go fuck anyone else I could? That it didn’t  _ mean  _ anything?” Dick growled, his voice rising. 

“I didn’t say anything like that at all, Dickie. Don’t project. You know I don’t think that. No one thinks that. So now let’s talk about that. I  _ know  _ Damian meant a lot to you. So let’s talk about why you felt you needed to break up.” 

“No.”

“Great. I think I can make some pretty good assumptions based on what I’ve gathered. I heard what happened at the gala from Tim. Maybe Damian said something. Something that makes you think he doesn’t actually trust you. You’re sensitive about your love being doubted. Maybe you think he doesn’t really even know you. If he even wants all of you then. You fight. He doesn’t get how to fix it, because he’s fucking dumb like that. You’re hurt he can’t even apologize. You snap finally, and you think that maybe you guys just need some space.” 

Dick turned slowly, staring at Jason in horror. “You talked to him.” 

Jason nodded shortly, the beginnings of panic making his skin prick. Dick was wild when he was upset, and Jason had never seen Dick  _ this  _ wrecked, so he had no idea exactly how Dick would react. Dick’s jaw tensed, and he blinked rapidly, turning away completely. The lean muscles on his back swelled, and Jason did so hope that he could avoid it coming to blows. 

“It happened for a reason. I shouldn’t be with him.” Dick said stiffly. 

“Why not?” Jason asked, not expecting Dick to say it with such honesty. 

“Don’t you  _ get  _ it? He doesn’t deserve someone fucked up like me. I was all he had. But I just...I let myself get hurt. I wanted him to tell me he didn’t mean it, that he was  _ wrong,  _ and he...I blamed him for the same thing I did. But there were already enough things that made themselves very clear to me I shouldn’t have ever looked at him like that. He’s Bruce’s son. Basically my fucking  _ brother.  _ He’s so young. And so in the end, it was all because it just wasn’t meant to be. That's it.” Dick grit out, looking down at his bruised hands. 

Jason frowned, his heart aching from seeing the wreck in front of him. He had always been biased towards Dick, in more regards than just one, and it hurt to see him so ruined, so far gone and so sure of it. “But he should have apologized. I’m not saying you didn’t fuck up too, but he should’ve just talked to you. I know it seemed like he just didn’t care, or was too proud, but I bet he just didn’t want to lose you.” 

Dick laughed dryly, his eyes sad. “Proved him right, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter anymore. He will figure it all out. Doesn’t need me. I don’t want to be in his life anymore.” Dick lied. 

Jason narrowed his eyes, remembering how  _ lost  _ Damian was without Dick. How Dick was so obviously lying, right to his face, as if he was stupid. He  _ needed  _ Dick to see that he had to stop with the constant undeserving shit he always got on, so he could just go figure it out with Damian. Jason hated seeing Dick so lifeless, so quick to die out in front of him, delivering such a stupid idea he had probably recited to himself a million times, when it was clearly a lie. He needed Dick to  _ wake up,  _ to live with that passion that drew everyone to him. 

“Well, that’s good. He’s got a lot of good things going on right now. I’m glad you’re wishing the best for him. I heard he’s dating someone actually, and he seems really happy. So I’m glad it all worked out.” Jason said casually, standing up. 

Dick snapped his head back, and Jason felt sweat form under his arms - he wasn’t sure if he had ever had Dick look at him so closely. “What?” Dick asked hoarsely, his frame tightening. 

Jason ignored his blazing look, instead poking around the apartment nonchalantly, glass shards breaking under his boots. He paused in front of the random blood stain in the carpet next to the wall, finally looking up. “Oh, I’m sure you would’ve known that he wouldn’t be single for long. The little prick is gorgeous, if a little rough around the edges. Seems like this new guy is  _ meant to be. _ The brat might be in lo-” 

Dick shot forward, grabbing Jason by the collar, shoving him against the wall. His eyes blazed, and he looked  _ feral,  _ like any second he would sink his teeth into Jason’s jugular and rip it out.  _ “He’s in love?” _

“Why do _you_ care? You broke up with _him._ I thought you’d be happy he was happy.” Jason grit out, ignoring his poorly timed boner he had from seeing Dick all worked up. _No. Not what we are here for._ Dick’s lips pulled back to show sharp teeth, and he shook his head quickly, his hands tightening around Jason’s collar. Dick looked furious, but ashamed, and Jason knew he had said the right thing. _Almost._

“Why? Were you really gonna preach that bullshit to me, that you didn’t  _ want  _ him anymore? Saying it was for his own good that you broke up? That it was  _ meant to be?  _ Do you think I’m blind  _ and  _ deaf?” Jason sneered, seeing Dick battle within himself just inches away. “That you wouldn’t care that someone  _ else  _ was fucking him? That he moved on from you, and loved someone that  _ wasn’t  _ you?” 

Dick roared, his right hand pulling back in a fist, and Jason closed his eyes, accepting his imminent dislocated jaw.  _ Crack.  _ Jason opened his eyes slowly, confusedly catching the way Dick’s right hand was stuck in the drywall just inches from Jason’s head. Dick was shaking, sweat dripping from his hairline, and Jason was stunned looking at the mess in front of him. Thought about how even the first time he had ever met Dick, he thought he was  _ perfect,  _ with a stupidly perfect face, sky blue eyes that shined, and a smile that bound everyone to him. How  _ attractive  _ his confidence was, how capable he was, how he made everything better. The man in front of him still made his heart ache, but then more because he looked  _ shattered,  _ with wild eyes that were red from crying, dark stubble that made him look gaunt, and dark underbags under his eyes that made Jason feel small. Because this was  _ Dick,  _ his idol, and even though he hadn’t said it recently, he loved him, and watching Dick descend into ruins hurt a little too deep. That wasn’t supposed to happen, it wasn’t ever supposed to be  _ Dick  _ that lost everything. And...Damian wasn’t even that terrible. Jason knew that they  _ needed  _ this.  _ Both  _ of them. 

“Don’t lie, Dick. You still want him. You still  _ love  _ him.” Jason said quietly, and Dick’s head fell against Jason’s shoulder, his heavy body pinning Jason to the wall. Almost silent sobs made Jason’s leather jacket wet, and Jason pulled his arms around Dick soothingly. “It’s okay. It’s okay to say it.” 

“I fucked up, Jason. I miss him so much. But I ruined it. I love him so much and I ruined it.” Dick whispered, his bleeding hand gripping Jason’s arm painfully tight. 

“I know, Goldie.” Jason acknowledged gently, shifting so that Dick looked up, his eyes red and his face dark. 

“Look...Dick. I lied. Damian’s not with anyone. He’s miserable without you. He’s only ever going to want you. You needed a wake up call, Dickie. You  _ have _ to talk to him _. _ ” Jason finished forcefully, hoping to move by details like he lied to Dick’s face to hurt him. _Details, details._

Dick pulled back, his face tight, his eyes wary. He released his grip on Jason slowly, and Jason watched the flurry of emotions on Dick’s face. He met Dick’s hard face with silence, keeping his head high. 

“I mean...I don’t know why, but I feel like it’s really real between you two. I didn’t used to, but after this...in a way I think it’s good you had this happen. So just, go talk to him.” Silence answered Jason, and he started to feel the prick of discomfort under his skin. He was getting better at talking  _ seriously,  _ but the vulnerability that came with trying to  _ help  _ and be honest was a lot, especially with Dick looking more unstable than ever. 

“Well you’re fucking  _ welcome,  _ dickface. With all this charity work, I just might go to heaven.” Jason said defensively, relieved when Dick offered a tight smile back. 

“Thank you, Jason.” Dick mumbled, studying Jason closely. Jason blinked in surprise, not really knowing how to not  _ joke  _ about how much he cared for Dick, and just let it  _ be.  _ Dick leaned forward slowly, arms going around him. Jason returned the embrace, his mind feeling simultaneously incredibly happy and incredibly vulnerable, but he shut his mouth and just  _ held  _ Dick, realizing how long it had been since he had given love like this, and even longer since he felt it back. Dick exhaled deeply, Jason feeling the waves of tension slowly leaving Dick’s body. Over Dick’s messy strands of hair, Jason looked around his apartment, imagining the life of love Dick had given up. Because even if it was Dick’s apartment, even Jason could still see the imprint of Damian in most things, and he let the weight of living in the skeleton of a former life wash over him. The TV was smashed, glass on the couch, random dents on the walls Jason assumed was from thrown objects. But there still were the soft warm lights that he knew Damian had always secretly been fond of, and the dark rugs that screamed Damian. Little things of Damian’s were everywhere - neatly written grocery lists on the fridge, small sketchbooks, expensive pens, and what Jason could only guess had been small notes to Dick. Jason tightened his hold on Dick.

Dick pulled back to sit on the floor across from Jason. He looked exhausted, but better, and Jason knew that even Dick wasn’t pigheaded enough to not go see Damian even now. 

“You’re right.” 

“You say that as if surprised. Someone had to snap you out of your unhinged spiral.” Jason smirked. 

“I’m sorry. Honestly, just...fuck. Fuck this. I can't do this anymore. I will talk to him. I need to apologize. I don’t know if he’ll even let me see him but...shit. I _need_ to tell him. I'll do whatever he wants. Even if he never wants to see me again...I won't ask for anything. I'll just apologize." Dick muttered, more to himself than Jason. Dick finally looked up to meet Jason's gaze.  "Hey, are you - you gonna be good tonight?” Dick asked suddenly, his hand coming to bump Jason’s knee. 

“Uh. _Y_ _ou're_ the one with the forty mental breakdowns. But, yeah. I’ll probably go back to Gotham, see Timbo or something. You know, it’s good to be back here. I’m glad I caught you before you were gonna leave us.” Jason admitted, eyes darting down to avoid Dick’s gaze. 

“I - yeah. I’m glad, too. More than you’ll ever know. I wouldn’t have been able to, not really. But...we can talk more about that later. Love you, little wing.” Dick said softly, squeezing Jason’s hand. 

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Now go fuck the little brat’s brains out or something, I don’t know. I’m happy you’re both happy.” Jason said, pushing himself up to stand. Dick stood up hurriedly, turning to grab a jacket by the door. 

“I don't think that'll happen. All I can do is say I'm sorry. That's all I can do. But thanks. Can you send me his coordinates? Please?” Dick asked quickly, his fingers flitting on the door frame anxiously. 

Jason nodded, motioning for Dick to go already. “I will. You’re welcome, Dickie.” 

Dick smiled gratefully, before pulling on his jacket and shoes, swinging the door open. He looked back at Jason briefly, exhaling sharply. He looked like he could throw up from nerves.  _ You’ll be fine, idiot.  _ Dick slid out the door and the door shut behind him. Jason listened to his fading steps. 

“Oh, Timbo, I don’t know if you’re gonna like what I did. But I’m glad I did.” Jason said quietly to the empty room, ignoring how alone he felt and instead focusing on the fact that he did the right thing - how  _ happy  _ Dick and Damian would be again. 

And it  _ was _ a happy feeling, if just a little sad. Jason grabbed the hidden whiskey bottle on Dick’s counter and pulled out his grappler. Leaning his head down to click his tracker on, Jason fumbled with the drink to call Tim. 

After a ring, Tim’s crisp voice filled his ears. “Yes?” 

“Holy fuck do I have a lot to tell you.” 

“That doesn’t sound good at all.” Tim responded distrustfully. 

“Tut, tut Replacement, you think you know me so well. Now just listen to me for a second here…” 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise i will try and make the Getting Back Together worth it. And soon, too!! I really will try and update sooner than i did this one. I really like what I've written for the next chapter so far, so hopefully I can wrangle u all into liking it too. somehow...i love having jason as a kind of midpoint between the two, because while i think in a lot of stories he could be the last brother to do that, i also couldn't really see tim doing it. jason i think would be the most upset at first about them, but he really loves hard, and seeing dick this broken would i think bother him until he was like ok fuck i should do something. and then seeing damian so low, and yet so true in his love, i think the secret romantic in jason would realize he doesn't actually hate damian's guts quite as much. plus, i love the relationship he was with damian (at least in my head). because some moments they can talk about something intense, like damian's feelings or being lost, and jason can offer some really genuine advice or encouragements, and then the next they're back at arguing. I hope that dynamic didn't feel weird to you, because I really like the inconsistencies of their relationship. I don't ever see them just one end of the spectrum. 
> 
> and dick and damian finally doing some growing (or starting to at least). I want to preface, for my own personal indulgence, that they both truly believe they lost the other one and the most they can do is apologize and then that's it. especially damian, because he really knows nothing much about dick. dick does now know that damian is suffering without him, but he still is love stupid at the end of the day ok. he really think he aint about to get ANY ass ever again. unfortunately this is just how my mind works. as always, i absolutely adore comments or your general thoughts! they keep me coming back again and again ;) thank you for reading! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! i am, in fact, alive! long break in between last update, but I am glad in a way, because I don't think some really important parts of the story would have come to me if it hadn't sat w me for a little extra bit. I am about to respond to all your beautiful comments, and I just have to emphasize that selfishly, reading your comments is truly one of my favorite things ever. I couldn't write nearly as much or as excitedly without them, because they make me think and feel and know that someone cares about this world even a little bit. so thank you <3
> 
> and here we finally have the end. I'll admit, I almost want to prolong the reunion more, explore their angst and coping mechanisms, but that is for another time still. I truly hope you enjoy this ending, please let me know what you think! I will drone on more at the end. on w it! :D

Damian rubbed his hands together, the biting cold making the hair on his body prick painfully. He was sitting in the living room, taking breaks between workouts, his mind a million miles away. It was harder, now that he was alone, to preach the same gratefulness of the memories of Dick’s love; the acceptance that he just might be alone in his love forever and yet he needed to grow still, well..that was harder in the dark of his apartment. But he wasn’t giving up; he was still slow to get out of bed, and he still relied on pretending Dick was around, but any specific memory didn’t necessarily mean he would break down for the night. He tried to live in the happiness of the thought of his beloved. He wasn’t truly any less broken, but now there were invisible strings of memories and affirmations that wrapped around his soul, and it was more about the whole picture than the fragments anyways. 

Riding the momentary high of the promise of growth, Damian had started writing a letter earlier in the day, but had since lost steam. The dream was always to apologize to Dick, but he supposed he should also make for some lower hanging fruit. Apologizing to Raven still, at first thought, was appalling, reeking of the _ugly_ lower hanging fruit, but perhaps that was why it was still important to do. Damian had known for a while he acted inappropriately, and if Dick were there, he would offer that this was arguably the best opportunity to be the “better man.” Well, as always, easier said than done, because after a couple words, Damian’s pen blotted hideously, and he tore up the paper in frustration. He started thinking about how she probably purposefully dressed so obscenely to see Dick and that she _knew_ Dick’s touch already and - well. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._

Damian took a little break. Eventually, he picked the pen back up, fetched a new paper, and tried to continue to apologize, albeit painfully formal, for his outburst. The desire to blame her for Dick leaving thrummed enticingly in the back of his head, but Damian knew that he might invite more trouble than what it was worth, even if it was initially under the guise of “growth.” Unfortunately, Damian had seen Raven pick up an entire building at a second’s notice, and being crushed to death even after telling her that she bested him was strangely not that appealing. Dick, sadly, had some very powerful exes...Regardless, he wasn’t done, but he had started, and he supposed that was better than not doing anything. It all boiled down to getting a lot better at taking breaks when wrathful instincts reared their ugly heads. _Growth, right?_

Damian had also started putting up his sketches, propping them around the empty apartment, and they grew and grew into more complex scenes. Dick was in them in some way, whether he was the portrait or it was his outline against the Gotham sky, Damian’s Robin outline beside him. Memories of early mornings or late nights came to life, and Damian found himself staring at the drawing long after he finished it. He forced himself to just let what come just come, and though it wasn’t perfect like his drawings before, he didn’t trash them. The drawing he made with Jason laid atop his dresser, and the outlaw’s rare praise had made Damian think twice about tearing it up like he always did. He was glad he had started putting them up; it made the dark apartment a little bit warmer to be in, surrounding him with little parts of his heart. 

Remnants of his ambitiously large dinner were on a plate beside him. Damian had actively tried to start eating more than normal. He was tired of looking and feeling weaker, and it was a poor reflection of himself to lose all his work and dedication, or at least, that’s what he told himself to try and want it back. Spite used to be his best drive, before he had met Dick. But spite could never lose all of its value, of course. Nevertheless, of all the very few simple things in his life, it was one of the ones that he could work towards and expect results. He had little control over the most important parts of his life, but the simplicity of working on himself was very attractive when he had no one else. 

It was hailing outside, the sharp rap of fallen frozen rain a steady beat in the background of the Gotham evening. The orange yellow light of the opposite building’s sign cast Damian’s dark apartment in a soft glow. Damian leaned down to start another round of pushups, the burn of his muscles becoming less piercing as he went on. He was shirtless, wearing dark sweatpants, his feet bare on the cold floor. _One, two, three..._

_...Two hundred and forty eight, two hundred and forty nine, two hundred and fif-_ A soft knock on the front door made Damian still mid-pushup. He paused, sure he imagined a knock. He barely had a functional door at all, and Jason, the only person who knew where he was, preferred to just call up to the balcony. Frowning, Damian stood up, compelled to check even though he was sure nobody was there. He stepped lightly, his muscles tensed, until he reached the door. Putting an ear against the rough wood, Damian listened carefully. 

He heard the quietest exhale on the other side, and Damian pulled back quickly. It was quiet, but it was there. Was it Jason? No one else knew where he was, but it didn’t _feel_ like Jason. Jason would’ve been loud, or rude, unless...what if he had finally talked to Dick? What if he had talked to him and had terrible news? Damian felt the start of panic sinking in. Jason had been loath to say when Dick wanted nothing to do with Gotham, seemingly empathetic. Jason wasn’t stupid - he knew there wasn’t anything more painful to Damian than Dick’s rejection. Why else would Jason come to him so late and to his door, so unlike his previous visits? _Fuck. Dick doesn’t ever want to see me again. He hates me. He hates me and he told Jason to tell me._ Damian inhaled sharply, the prick of tears behind his eyes burning hot. _Fuck!_ It was so much easier when he wasn’t exactly sure of Dick’s thoughts, when he could live in this world where he loved Dick but he just had to be away from him, and he didn’t have to hear that Dick wanted _nothing to do with him._ All the work he had done the past couple of days, trying to focus on how grateful he should be, how he needed to grow and change, how he would always love Dick but it would be worth it to do it from afar. All that work might as well have disintegrated at the thought that Dick could hate him, could _not_ want him at all, would feel disgusted by Damian’s love. Damian hyperventilated, his breaths coming out strangled, his back tensing painfully. His vision blurred, but he steeled himself for the news, his hand grabbing the doorframe tightly. He would _not_ lose it in front of Jason. He would accept it, and break down when Jason was gone. _Just open the door and look at the ground._

Damian’s fingers pulled the crooked door back, and he closed his eyes immediately. The gust of Gotham wind was wet and cutting, and Damian wasn’t so sure he was gonna be able to hear the news anymore. His stomach seized but he clenched his teeth and tensed his shoulders. The smallest exhale of surprise sounded in front of him. Damian blinked quickly, tears falling, and focused on the boots in front of him. Only, those weren’t Jason’s boots. Damian’s brain short-circuited. He focused, recognizing that those were...those were _Dick’s_ boots. Damian snapped his head up, his dark face painted in a faint orange glow, the barest glimmer of his tears visible. 

Dick stood in front of him, his frame tight, his face red and bits of snow stuck in his stubble. He looked stunned, as if he had something to say but he couldn’t remember what it was, and they stared at each other for several beats in utter silence. His hair was longer, the waves falling over his ears, the duck tails on the back of his neck Damian had always secretly been so fond of curling up rebelliously. 

“Hi.” Dick cleared his throat, his hands flitting forward briefly as if to touch Damian. “May - may I come in?” Dick asked quietly, his voice rougher than Damian remembered. 

_What?_ Damian stared at him, stepping back to open the door wider, his movements robotic. So Dick came to deliver the news himself. Damian wasn’t sure he could come out of that without breaking entirely. _Listen to him. Apologize. Let him leave again._ Damian’s head pounded, and he tried to breathe in deep breaths. 

Dick stepped in gingerly, his head forward but his eyes zipping around to take in the apartment. He had at first considered going up the balcony, but he wanted Damian to make the active decision to see him, and so he had spent extra time trying to figure out how to get to the door if it was even functional. The drive over was the hardest he’d ever made, and he couldn’t make up his mind if this really was good to come apologize right then or if he was disguising it as a selfish move to see Damian. But he _did_ need to apologize, and it was only right to do it in person, but still...it felt bad to drop it on Damian if he didn’t want it. 

As he walked through the entryway, Dick half-expected some new lover to step from the shadows, Jason’s hopefully false words echoing in his head. But he didn’t see anyone. The apartment was scarily bare, with virtually no furniture, but tons of sketches around. The apartment was dark enough he couldn’t tell exactly what was on them, but the light made them glow yellow, and curiosity burned inside him, surely if he just stepped closer...But as he moved forward to squint, Damian’s soft step sounded behind him and he twirled around embarrassedly. He was lucky Damian even let him in, it was _not_ time to probe his life away from Dick. 

Damian still looked speechless, and Dick couldn’t help but let his eyes raze across his body. He looked thinner, far leaner than even before. His hands twitched, the tendons pulling muscles from his arm and pulling Dick’s fervent eyes up. His shoulders were bony and sharp, and the deep rich red undertones he normally had were gone. Damian looked haunted, with a thinner face and dark under eyes that made his emerald eyes glow darker. But his hair was still as sharp as ever, close cut by his ears, and Dick bet he still cut it with one of his swords himself. 

Dick straightened, determined to apologize and not get distracted. It felt so intoxicating seeing Damian so close, after not seeing him for so long, that he felt short of breath, and he wanted more than anything to pull him close and feel like he still had him, even after everything. But that was not what he came for, not something that would prove he had grown. No, he was there to apologize. 

The shadows curled up Damian’s body, curving around each lean muscle, parallel to the warm light coming from outside. _Okay, so fucking say it already._

“How have you been?” 

_Fuck!_ Dick regretted the words as soon as they slipped out, he was supposed to _apologize_ right off the bat, not ask stupid questions, but...he wasn’t expecting anything, and then _after_ this was, what? _Nothing. I don’t want to lose you just yet._

Damian blinked, his eyes focusing confusedly on Dick. “What?” 

Dick cringed, thankful at least that it seemed so stupid of a question that it stunned Damian before pissing him off. “Okay, I’m stupid. Stupid question. Unless you’re doing good, in that case that’s...that would be...nice,” Dick trailed off, appalled at the way he seemed to lose every coherent thought in his mind in favor of embarrassing himself. 

Damian’s stomach flipped, still feeling like he wasn’t really sure what was going on. What was he supposed to say? Be _honest?_ That he had been living as a ghost, and any progress was scattered to the wind the second he saw Dick at his door? Surely, Dick would not want to hear pathetic things like that when he was trying to let go of Damian entirely. Damian’s fingers gripped the back of his sweatpants nervously. He knew what was coming, and it seemed like Dick was going to try and do it nicely, but that made Damian feel worse. 

“I don’t honestly know what you would like for me to say. What do you want me to say?” Damian asked quietly, and Dick finally caught the thin sheen of tears on Damian’s cheeks in the dark light. 

“I...I want you to say whatever you want to say. Or do whatever you want to _do._ Or whoever...well, fuck. I’m just making this worse. I just wanted to talk to you, but I should have asked first...Would you like me to leave?” Dick stepped back anxiously, adrenaline spikes sending tremors down his legs. 

“ _No_.” Damian breathed out quickly, sidestepping to block the door. He righted himself awkwardly, backing up to leave an open path to the door. “I mean, if you want to, I will not stop you. However, I...if you are inclined to talk, my interests are aligned with yours.” 

Dick felt the back of his neck tingle from hearing the formal rasp he had missed so much. “Okay. Thank you.” Dick said slowly, closing his eyes briefly so he wouldn’t project his feelings so easily. _Fucking get a grip._ Opening his eyes, Dick set his jaw and straightened his shoulders, unaware of the way Damian shifted to attention automatically. Dick looked around hastily, unsure if they should just stand the whole time or if he should try and make it less confrontational by sitting down somewhere. _There isn’t...anywhere to sit._ Dick’s eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“I have not found the need for furniture.” Damian finally murmured. 

_Ah._ Dick smiled awkwardly. “I don’t have the need for most things now, it seems. Our,” Dick cut himself off sharply. Dick grit his teeth. How many _stupid_ things could he fit in so few minutes? It wasn’t _theirs_ anymore. But seeing Damian so close, it was hard to remember details like that. _Jesus. I am ruining this._

“ _-the_ place is not looking its best, or so Jason tells me.” Dick finished lamely. Damian's eyes focused at the mention of Jason. Dick wasn’t sure if he should’ve mentioned Jason, but he felt like he needed to grasp for something to say to make Damian look less like he was going to die at any moment. 

“No one’s been in here.”

Dick fought the surge of happiness that shot through his body. _No one else had been there._ He tilted his head back feigning mild surprise, hoping Damian didn’t see that the confirmation that he hadn’t had anyone over was the best thing Dick had heard for what felt like years. Damian shifted minutely, the shadows swallowing him further, and suddenly Dick remembered he was on a timer still. Dick was about to say he hadn’t had anyone over either, but Damian’s broken voice cut through his thoughts. 

“Please, Richard. Just say it.” Damian finally said, a rare break in his voice. “Please.” 

Dick frowned, confused at what exactly Damian was expecting. He sounded desperate, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable, but it was harder than it ever used to be to read _why._ Was it even more painful to see Dick than Dick had thought? Here Damian was, letting Dick indulgently apologize, while clearly the presence of him did more harm than good. Dick sagged, feeling sick again. But he couldn’t just _leave,_ without apologizing - that would be even worse. _I’m just gonna apologize. And then I will never bother you again._

“Damian,” Dick started, his throat threatening to close up when he saw Damian’s eyes close in pain. “I-I wanted to apologize. For _everything_. I should’ve tried to understand why you reacted that way. I wanted to hear you say you didn’t mean it, but I never made it easy for you. I should’ve just talked to you about it. Instead I shut you out and I was selfish. I’m not asking anything from you. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Dick said softly, his eyes locked with Damian’s. Damian looked back at him, his face falling, hooded jade eyes widening. 

“ _What?_ ” Damian choked out, his voice gravelly from disuse. Dick stiffened. He knew it was a possibility, even expected it, for it to fall short and go terribly, and maybe it wasn’t ever enough, couldn’t ever be enough, but it was still important to make amends. But it still felt like he was ripping his heart out. 

“I fucked up. I fucked _us_ up. And I’m sorry. I needed to tell you. Even if I never see you again. It’s my fault. And it was cowardly of me not to tell you sooner. If you want me to leave, or never come to Gotham, I don’t need to. I want to do whatever you want. I’d do anything for you.” Dick said honestly, and he stepped closer compulsively. He lifted his hand slowly, hovering over Damian’s chin, his eyes scanning Damian’s face expecting he’d never get to see it again. The familiar pull to lean down and kiss Damian, to give in to the intoxicatingly beautiful man in front of him raged in his chest. _I want to touch you._ He dropped his hand as if burned and stepped back awkwardly. “I do love you. I’ve always loved you. But I don’t want that to weigh you down anymore. You don’t deserve that.” 

Damian closed his eyes, trails of tears falling down his face. He felt like his head was going to explode, every thought needed to operate his body pulling him in every direction. “ _No_ , Richard. You absolute _fool._ I can’t believe this right now, I can’t - no. No. Please. _I_ apologize.” Damian stepped forward, his eyes desperate for Dick to listen and _see_ him. “I acted entirely inappropriately. I was so possessed with jealousy and insecurity when you had given me nothing short of everything. It almost felt as if I didn’t, then I would _lose_ you, as if I was the only thing that could stop you from leaving. But it was unfounded. Wholly misplaced. Because _you_ were the only thing that mattered, and I lost sight of that thinking I was doing it to prove my love. I never should have said those things. I regretted them the second they left my injudicious mouth.” Damian stepped forward again, his hands slowly coming to rest on Dick’s jacket, holding it tightly and imploring Dick to _feel_ how much he meant it. The zipper of Dick’s jacket reflected the soft orange light, the dark shadows making his Adam’s apple more prominent. He was so handsome, so _rough_ and _raw,_ that the urge to touch him was almost overwhelming. Dick choked, confusion plain on his face. 

Damian looked up at him, his breath stuck in his throat. It _couldn’t_ be real, that Dick wasn’t going to excommunicate him from everything for good. It was _too_ good, too insane to believe, that Damian rushed to continue before Dick could take anything back. “ _I_ apologize.” Damian repeated firmly, the overpowering desire to be honest with every thought that came to his mind. “For everything. For all that you have given me, when I was spineless enough to pretend I didn’t do that to you, because I was so afraid you would have left. What I said was unforgivable. I _never_ should have said that. I didn’t want to accept it, because I _knew_ deep down that you should have left. Please, beloved. It was _my_ fault.” Damian whispered, unconsciously moving closer and closer to Dick’s face. Damian’s biceps swelled with the strength of his grip, his obliques sliding out of the shadows with his step up. 

Dick’s blue eyes looked dark in the shadows, the barest glimmer of light illuminating the sharp electric blue waves in his irises. His hand came up to tilt Damian’s head up, barely touching it, and Damian inhaled sharply. 

“Little prince. You apologize to no one. _Ever._ ” Dick rumbled in wonder, his mouth hovering over Damian’s, his eyes locked with glowing emeralds. “What do you want? If you never want to see me again, I would leave. Erase every part of myself to this world. I will give you the world, or leave from it. Anything. Say it, and I swear I will give you it.” Dick’s eyes blazed, and his hold on Damian’s face tightened. 

“I thought you would know this by now, beloved. _I’ve only ever wanted you_ .” Damian whispered, hot tears at the corner of his eyes. Dick’s jaw tensed, his eyes dilated, and Damian didn’t know what to do or to say, but he knew that he never wanted to forget _this_ moment, and that he could live an endless amount of lifetimes and nothing would ever compare to the love he felt. 

“I never could stop loving you.” Dick said huskily, surging forward and kissing Damian harshly, the force of it making Damian stumble back. Damian moaned, hands going straight up to Dick’s hair to pull him closer, wanting to reach into him and live inside Dick, wanting never to be away for anything. 

“Please, _please,_ don’t leave. Stay. Fuck me.” Damian begged lowly, his legs going to wrap around Dick’s waist, large hands automatically grabbing Damian’s ass possessively. Dick hissed as Damian ground down on his hardening cock, grabbing him roughly. As Damian kissed up Dick’s neck obsessively, Dick walked them over to Damian’s small bed, laying him down. Damian immediately pushed back up, his face desperate and panicked, as if Dick would leave the second they stopped touching. 

Dick pushed him down gently, leaning over Damian possessively. He saw how bleak and empty the room was in his peripheral, how gloomy it was, and his chest ached thinking about how Damian had been living away from him. The room was dark, but not dark enough he couldn’t see Damian, because the faint light from the neon sign outside carried in from the bedroom balcony. Damian looked ethereal, his lean body tensed and flitting fitfully wanting to touch but also wanting to obey. His dark lips looked even darker, tender from the force of their kiss. Dick pulled off his jacket and undershirt, smiling shyly when he heard Damian’s adoring moan. He had seen Dick a million times, but it felt different this time. Long fingers moved up Damian’s legs, pushing with enough force to remember the paths they used to walk, but not enough force to take like he used to. As soon as he reached Damian’s waistband, he pulled down slowly, kissing the planes of new skin softly while Damian writhed underneath. The _smell_ of Damian was godly, the warmth that radiated off of him so welcoming, and Dick rested his head on the junction of Damian’s hip, breathing in his smell and trying not to show how unreal this all was. 

“I missed you.” Damian smiled softly, his hands raking through Dick’s hair reverently. 

“I missed you more.” Dick kissed the side of Damian’s thigh, smiling when Damian jerked at the barest brush on his cock. Dick pulled Damian’s pants off entirely, Damian’s legs immediately pulling him in closer. Leaning down, Dick licked at Damian’s cock obscenely, going feral at the sounds that tore out of Damian. He was just like when Dick had first touched him, when he felt like Damian could come by just being looked at. The sounds were endless, high pitched moans and praises for Dick as his head bobbed around Damian’s cock. Dick let his mouth widen, a steady stream of spit and pre-come spilling out onto his fingers. Slicking them up, Dick lined them up with Damian’s hole while he was at the top of Damian’s cock, thrusting inside the tight heat when he took all of Damian into his mouth. There was more resistance than normal, but Dick didn’t relent, knowing Damian could take it. Damian whined, always extra loud on the first thrust, his fingers pulling Dick’s hair tightly. 

Under his hands, Dick felt the familiar stomach contraction - already on the first couple thrusts, that meant Damian’s orgasm was already coming, but he wanted him to wait just a little longer. Pulling back quickly, Dick withdrew his fingers and watched Damian struggle not to snap at him for stopping. 

“Flip.” Dick’s gravelly voice filled in the room, and he wasn’t sure Damian had ever listened to him so quickly. “Spread yourself.” 

Damian’s long fingers rushed back to reveal himself, his ass pushed up, and the growl Dick made behind him made his cock twitch excitedly. Dick leaned forward, eyes glued to the way Damian’s hole pulsated long after Dick’s fingers left. 

“Mhm, I missed the taste of you.” Dick mumbled, a breath away, rough hands coming up to frame Damian’s ass. 

Damian moaned when Dick’s tongue suddenly pushed forward, and he hated how _easy_ he was, how if he wasn’t focusing so hard to prolong everything, that he could come anytime, that he had _already_ almost came. He _loved_ it when Dick ate him out, despite how embarrassed he felt to voice how much he wanted it, but Dick knew him better than anyone. Damian pushed back against Dick’s purposeful tongue, slipping forward when Dick entered him insistently. Damian automatically tightened around Dick’s tongue every time, desperate to feel the slick muscle _inside_ him that meant _Dick_ was inside him. He didn’t care how loud he was being; the feeling of Dick’s stubble scratching against his bare ass, rough hands pulling him open, and wet worship behind him was devastating, and Damian felt like he was seconds away from passing out. 

“I, ah, I _never_ would have let anyone else t-touch me,” Damian said breathily, his low voice interrupted by inadvertent whimpers. “I nev-never touched myself since you,” Damian admitted, hands gripping the sheets. Dick growled, nails digging into Damian’s smooth but worried skin. 

“ _Never?_ You never would have touched yourself?” Dick hissed, sure that if he heard Damian’s breathy voice affirm that Dick _owned_ him even if Dick didn’t want him, then he wouldn’t be able to slow things down like he wanted to. 

“ _No_ .” Damian affirmed quietly, twisting back to look at Dick, emerald chips burning. Dick bared his teeth, leaning back on his thighs, his dark form looming over Damian. But Damian could see the barest hint of Dick’s electric ice chip eyes, the way his jaw looked like stone, and to have that gaze on him again, dissecting him and scrutinizing him, pulling him apart and _loving_ him again...anything was worth enduring to come home to him.

“Never? And why is that?” Dick’s voice dropped lower, and he leaned down slowly, covering Damian’s sweaty back easily. Damian shuddered as Dick’s hard nipples brushed twin lines up his back, the hard dip of Dick’s abs making Damian’s cock jerk again. 

“I can’t finish without you. Because you own every part of me. Because I’m yours to take from. I’ve _always_ been yours to take.” Damian whispered, tilting his head back to bite at Dick’s ear. 

“I am the only one who can touch that pretty hole of yours. _No_ one else. I’d fucking kill them. Did you hear me?” Dick spread Damian’s legs farther, his rough hand barely brushing Damian’s balls. “I said I’d kill them, love. I’d go insane, I swear. You’re _mine._ ” Dick promised darkly, the dominating instinct he always felt exemplified around Damian went wild. They could do sweet _after._

_I want to fucking ruin you._

Damian gasped, his head ducking automatically, his forearms burning from holding himself up for so long. He pushed his ass back, his heartbeat thundering once he felt the telltale push of Dick’s cock at his ass. The anticipation was torturous, Damian was ready _years_ ago, but Dick’s cock teased his hole, pulling back just enough whenever Damian pushed back. Damian grit his teeth in irritation, not even swayed by the way Dick’s hand curled around his throat possessively. 

“Then fucking fuc-” 

Dick surged forward, his cock pushing in in one deep stroke. Damian choked, not ready, and he almost forgot how _big_ Dick was, because it felt like he was gonna suffocate, he felt so _full._ Dick’s cock was thick and long, with the slightest tip at the end that always grazed Damian’s prostate just enough with every thrust. It had been so long without him, he had been so _empty,_ it felt like he was going to split in half. 

Dick tightened his grip on Damian’s throat, savoring the rush of Damian’s blood under his fingers. He pulled Damian’s head back, arching his back further, and an obscene pop sounded when Dick pulled out while Damian tried to pull him back. Damian flushed, tongue darting out to lick dark lips, and he looked back at Dick with hooded eyes. Dick groaned, his eyes dilating, sweaty hair matted on his forehead. 

“You look like a proper slut. You missed my cock, didn’t you, darling? Fucking _need_ my cock. I never could let you go. My little _whore,_ all this time. You _need_ me. How could I leave you?”

Damian whined, eyes rolling back when Dick snapped his hips forward hard enough to leave a bruise. “I _always_ need you.” Damian whimpered, his breathy voice breaking, and Dick leaned down to kiss him. One hand on Damian’s throat angling him better to kiss, Dick continued fucking him, the slap of skin on skin echoing in Damian’s dark apartment. Damian had always been the tightest he’d ever had, and Dick knew some of it was mental, like how _young_ he was or how _predatory_ it felt to bend his ward in half, how utterly _taboo_ and _dirty_ the world saw their relationship. Dick sped up, fingers digging deep into amber skin, and suddenly it was like the first time again, when he realized this was worth _everything,_ and he was blessed beyond belief that this god among mortals hunted him down and demanded he return his love. 

The light from the sign curled around their forms, dark shadows pooling in the sharp angles of their bodies, the soft tiger glow illuminating the few soft parts they had. Dick’s calves strained pushing him forward, Damian’s obliques dancing in the shadows with each thrust that jerked him forward. Damian’s constant noises made Dick feel rabid, like he was some dog and the only thing he could think about was filling Damian up with his come again and again. 

“I _couldn’t,_ darling, not _ever._ ” Dick’s voice got rougher, more firm, and Damian preened, desperate to live in the beautiful world only Dick could lead him to, the one where he could give up _everything_ , reduce himself to nothing at Dick’s feet, and yet feel more loved than ever doing it. Damian shuddered, his body overwhelmed with the peak of sensation that Dick always pulled him into, and his will to stave off his orgasm was losing. 

“ _Promise me you’ll never leave._ ” Damian suddenly begged, twisting so he could grab the rebellious curls on the back of Dick’s head. If not at the brink of orgasm, Damian would’ve felt embarrassment at how utterly desperate he sounded, as if he learned nothing and Dick would always be the end all to everything, like he was nothing without him. “ _Please, Richard.”_ Damian pled, and Dick’s thrusts stuttered, strong hands gliding down to lock around Damian’s narrow waist, and the soft way Damian touched his hair and down his neck made Dick gasp. How _soft_ he touched even with an iron grip, as if he was dazed by how beautiful Dick was when all Dick could do was marvel how such love could come to him, when Damian deserved it all and more. 

Dick leaned down, lips hovering over Damian’s moans. “I promise. My soul has always been yours.” 

Damian cried Dick’s name out, his stomach clenching, and thick ropes of come covered Damian’s tensed front. Dick hissed as Damian’s tight heat pressed around his cock even further, and he thrust harder, bracing Damian against each impact with strong hands, until he came with a groan. “Damian, _fuck._ ” 

Dick staggered, barely catching himself with an arm. Damian’s hot quick breaths tickled Dick’s cheek, and he groaned, pulling Damian close. The last tremors of Dick’s body followed short after Damian’s, and the sweaty slick between their bodies dripped down onto Damian’s makeshift bed. Dick was still fully seated in Damian, and unless Damian had changed, he knew Damian wouldn’t want him to pull out until he absolutely had to. 

Damian twisted, moaning softly at the change in position around Dick’s cock. He wrapped his legs around Dick’s waist, ankles locking him in, while he looked up at Dick. Bright emeralds glittered with bits of orange fire reflected, and Damian’s flushed face looked so much more alive than the face that greeted him at the door. The natural shadows of Damian’s face looked richer, a deeper red coming to life under them, sharp cheekbones softer in the light. His dark lips were pulled into a rare shy grin, and Dick smiled softly, wondering how someone could be so fucking beautiful. 

“You are ethereal. A god among men. As if Aphrodite walked among us, with eyes greener than the Lazarus Pit, and a knife kept hidden under each boot.” Dick mumbled, long fingers sorting through Damian’s short hair and smoothing the occasional curl. 

Damian laughed softly, eyes crinkling, and he wasn’t sure he had ever felt _this_ happy. Because he _knew_ what it was like to lose everything and then some, but to get it _back_? When he was starved for so long? Damian stared up at Dick, feeling like his chest was going to burst open. 

“Ah, my beloved. If I am Aphrodite, then you are Zeus, who created me, and granted me any beauty I may have. What is a god amongst men to the god to all gods?” Damian asked softly, emerald eyes locked with sky blue. The pound of their heartbeats still hadn’t slowed, and Damian knew Dick heard their synched beats too. “Although, I haven’t seen you grow your beard out like this. Is this the most you can offer? I had read that Zeus had a rather mature beard. Yours is rather scruffy.” Damian continued fondly, running his hands through the prickly bristles. 

Warm sky blue eyes narrowed, and Dick surged forward, kissing up and along Damian’s neck, sure to scratch his beard against Damian’s soft amber skin as much as possible. “Such blasphemy. You can’t even grow a beard at all. Besides, then you would look old like me.” 

“You are the only person who can somehow become more beautiful under the heavy hand of time.” Damian said honestly, fingers slowing. He stared up at Dick, mesmerized by the way the light made Dick’s sharp features look like they were made of stone, how every hard line was met with the smallest soft angle that led into another hard plane of his face. “However, you are not old. I will let you know when you are old.” Damian promised loftily, his hands curling around Dick’s neck. 

“I hope so more than anything.” Dick kissed the side of Damian’s mouth, shifting his hips slowly, caught off guard when Damian kissed back especially viciously. 

“Pull out, and I’ll gut you.” Damian hissed, catlike eyes threatening. 

Dick’s eyebrows jumped in amusement, and his mouth pulled back in a lewd grin. He lowered his head near Damian’s ear, already feeling the heady feeling of dominance slip back into his system. “Suck me off, and then maybe I’ll fuck you again.” 

Damian nodded quickly, skillful hands already traveling down Dick’s abs teasingly. Dick pulled out, semi-hard, pulling himself up to line his cock up with Damian’s hungry face. Dick braced himself against the wall, thighs bracketing Damian’s head. 

“Patience.” Dick reprimanded as Damian inched forward, and Dick gripped Damian’s hair tightly, pulling him back against the wall, his head tilted up and his Adams Apple bobbing greedily. 

Dick watched with hooded eyes as he guided his quickly hardening cock down Damian’s open throat. Damian choked himself going forward, and as soon as Dick saw the whites of Damian’s eyes roll back, his grip tightened and he thrust forward. Damian’s insistent hands on Dick’s ass pulled him in, and the desperate gasps and moans around Dick’s cock filled the room, Dick’s low baritone goading Damian into _more._ Damian had always been desperate for Dick to _take_ his love, and while at first it was difficult, Dick quickly realized that this was what proved to Damian that he loved him _back_ and then some. Fortunately, it also happened to be a love that stirred in his bones, that made him to come to life, enslaved and freed him every damn day since he had met the youngest Wayne. 

\--- 

  
  


“I still don’t really see the big _gotcha_ moment you promised me.” Tim said cooly, desperate not to show how much Jason’s news bothered him. Jason revved his motorcycle to cut off Tim. 

Jason lounged on his bike, big boots dragging on the Cave floor behind the Bat Computer where Tim sat. The case Tim had been working on spread out on the giant screen, but Jason was very aware that his meaningful actions per minute was hovering at a fat zero. 

“And _stop_ revving that fucking motorcycle! You’re lucky Bruce isn’t here.” Tim snapped, twisting the chair around angrily. His wavy hair looked messy from the frequent worrying he had done when he thought Jason wasn’t looking. Cerulean eyes pinned Jason, who scowled back. 

“Okay, and? As if I wouldn’t rev right into his ugly mug.” Jason growled, leaning over the handlebars and making a show of grinding the motorcycle into the ground. “You’re being pretty piss poor company. Like since when am _I_ the good one? You should be congratulating me for doing something _good_. Here you are and you haven’t even said anything other than look like I just pissed in your cereal.” 

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Bruce is behind you.” 

Jason whirled around, fists high, to find nothing but the empty Cave staring back at him. Several bats screeched overheard, and Jason turned back furiously. 

“Fucking dickstain. You’re just upset because I ruined your little dreamboat parade. Did you think that Dick would all of a sudden like _you_ ? Honestly?” Jason snarled, irritated that Tim knew exactly where to push to piss him off. _Well, I know where your buttons are, too, jackass._ “Yeah, how’d that go? The one time you saw him he fucking ditched your ass because you mentioned Damian.” 

Tim bared his teeth, hands gripping the chair arms. “ _No._ I did not think he would just fucking like me just like that, okay? I knew it wouldn’t work out like that. Is that what you want to hear? I was just going to wait. And give him his fucking space. Unlike _you,_ who just went and bothered both of them. And since fucking when is it _Damian_?!” Tim asked scathingly, pale face flushed. 

Jason rolled his eyes, rough face looking haggard under the unforgiving white lights of the Cave. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Relax, you’re gonna blow an artery out. You are officially the worst pity party helper ever. I came here to mourn _together_ . So grow up and whine about it like me instead of hiding behind it as if I don’t know exactly what you feel.” Jason said, dragging a hand through his hair fitfully. “And, _yes._ His name is Damian. I don’t have a goddamn boner over him or anything, but he’s not the absolute worst person we’ve ever met. If you just _listened_ to me, you could understand why I did what I did. I felt bad for him. You would’ve too.” 

“Bad for him?” Tim echoed in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? _Damian?_ He is the absolute last person to feel bad for. You honestly think he _should_ be with Dick?!” 

Jason glared at Tim, frown deepening. “Yeah. I do. He _loves_ Dick more than anything. I’ve never seen anyone be more empty alone. He didn’t think he’d ever get Dick back. But guess what? He _still_ fucking was gonna sit and love Dick more and more every day. He was going fucking insane. Like, fuck. I don’t know, that’s pretty admirable. He isn’t that awful once you spend longer than five minutes with him. Still annoying as fuck. But I respect him, Tim. You didn’t _see_ him like I did. _Either_ of them. They’re broken without each other.” 

Tim fell silent, Jason’s words blaring loud in his head. “We would do that for Dick.” Tim finally said, indignant. 

“Maybe we would _mean_ to. But it’s not the same. Because Dick wouldn’t do it _back._ He only would for Damian.” Jason said quietly, the momentary anger fading into a dull melancholy. The silence that opened up between them was louder than any one they had before. How many nights had they spent commiserating their unrequited love together? But there never was a sense of finality that suffocated any fantasies, no closing door that meant they couldn’t always hope. Jason almost felt bad that he had shut that door for them, bringing Dick and Damian back together, when arguably, it would be easier than ever for him and Tim to entertain the idea that Dick might one day pick them instead. _Can’t do that._ Jason sagged, granting himself one moment to feel bad for both of them. 

“It’s not even just - I just. I really don’t like him, Jason. He hasn’t shown me any reason to feel otherwise. He’s insolent, entitled, and pigheaded. And yet, it seems like he always bests me. But he parades it as he suffers so much, when all he’s done is walk up and ruin my life, one step at a time.” Tim muttered, cerulean eyes looking distant. Jason nodded, understanding where Tim was coming from, and also pushing down the instinctual urge to say _you did that to me at first, too._

“I don’t think he’s that, not really. Not to his core. I saw him do things I never would’ve expected from the person I thought he was.” Paying for the girl’s lunch and expecting no thanks wasn’t high on the list of things that Jason would have guessed Damian would have done, or going the breakup alone with no complaints, nor giving up his own happiness for Dick with such finality. 

Jason loosened his grip on the handlebars, lost in thought. “And, I guess it helps to think that Dick wouldn’t pick him if he wasn’t worth it. Dick isn’t _that_ dense. I think he makes Damian...better. Kinder. Though it can be a bitch to notice sometimes.” Jason added, remembering the sharp tongued retorts Damian always fired back. Tim sniffed, sharp features focusing on him again. Jason opened his mouth, but found that it felt _wrong_ to leave it at that. Because in a way he did appreciate Damian’s sharp tongue, respected it even, and that at some degree...it was pleasant to have someone who could banter like him. “Well, I just. I don’t dislike him anymore.” Jason finally finished. 

  
  


“Well, I _do_.” Tim said firmly, crossing his legs slowly. Delicate fingers thrummed on lean thighs, the blue light from the Computer making them look gaunt. 

Jason snorted, leaning back. “And the sky is blue, yeah, I know. I’m not saying we’re gonna have a whole making up sleepover or anything, do our damn nails, and gossip about Dick. I just don’t want to punch the brat so hard his brain falls out, you know?” 

Tim narrowed his eyes, looking irritated in the way Jason knew meant he didn’t have anything to say for once and he didn’t like it. Jason found he was good at that recently. “I know, I know, I just ruined your life. Wanna know something awful?” Jason grinned playfully, and Tim cracked a smile despite himself. Jason’s passionately uncouth spirit always made Tim soften; so rarely was he around someone with, God forbid, a sense of _humor,_ that he found it being one of his favorite things about the outlaw. 

“When I saw Dick earlier, he lied right to my face. Said he didn’t want to be in Damian’s life anymore. So, guess what I did? I told him that Damian was with someone else.” Jason said dramatically, his arms wide. Tim scowled, already sensing where it was going and taking back any praise for the older man. He considered kicking one of Jason’s legs out to make him fall from that stupid motorcycle, but Jason’s annoying timbre continued. 

“Look, Replacement, pretend to sympathize for one second. But I made it like someone else was fucking the brat, like he was in _love._ ” Tim curled his lip distastefully, but Jason plowed ahead. “And I swear to God, Dickie lost it. You should’ve seen his fucking face. He almost took my head off. Punched a hole in the drywall. And guess the worst part.” Jason’s voice fell as his excitement returned, his low baritone getting rougher. 

Tim sighed, disliking how easily he could imagine the scene. “Something stupid, I’m sure. You kissed him, I don’t know. Just tell me and stop looking at me like that. I hate when you look like that.” 

“Oh, if only.” Jason smirked, leaning on the handlebars again. “Nope. I popped a _boner._ Right before he punched a hole in the wall, right next to my damn horny head. I was _so_ hard, but I didn’t even make it obvious. I was harder than I’ve been in _months._ Guess I’m even more fucked up than we thought. Now I’m gonna need someone to beat me up until they look like Dick and _then_ I can come.” Jason paused, for once considering the implications made on his mental state. 

“Hmm. Ever think how different your life is from what you thought it’d be when you were little?” 

Tim’s pinched face tightened further, and his head fell in his hands. “God. What an unfortunate day to have to be alive.” 

“Been there. You know, I almost forgot. Goldie’s growing out the beard, too.” Jason added with a lewd grin. At that, Tim shifted, blush forming, ruing the day that he told Jason he had a particular fondness for when Dick looked rougher. Fervent ardour from picturing Dick with a beard quickly transformed into irritation. 

“Of _course_ he is. Right when Dick decides to drive me more insane, that bastard gremlin snatches him away again. I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.” Tim muttered, pushing his bangs back. He cleared his throat, slight fingers sliding down black tights. 

“Maybe he isn’t so terrible. But maybe he is. I suppose it doesn’t matter to Dick. Look, before - I wasn’t trying to ruin it entirely. I was just being honest. Damian fucked up and Dick wasn’t doing anything.” Tim said defensively, his lean form small in the large chair. 

“Whatever you need to say to get into the pearly gates, Timbo. You helped break them up, I helped bring them back. Sounds like I’m doing pretty good. Maybe they’ll let me watch. Or _join in._ ” Jason grinned, large hands tightening around the handlebars. “Don’t be jealous, now. Even if I don’t love the brat, he’s still hot as fuck.” 

Tim scoffed. “As _if_ . I am not sadistic like you. I wouldn’t elect to purposefully watch Dick touch that brat. And he is _not_ hot. Damian would probably slit your throat before you even finished. Which would already be _quick_.”

Jason smirked, his aquamarine eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Somehow, I seriously doubt you would pass up the chance if Dick’s involved. Snooze you lose. If Dick’s fucking me into death, I don’t really see how you can go out any better way.” 

Tim’s face instantly tightened, his back straightening, and Jason peered back at him wearily. A telltale step behind him, more familiar than any other step he ever knew, and Jason’s throat closed up. He only made a sound when he wanted his presence to be known. Jason turned stiffly, his face already pulling down in a mean sneer. 

Bruce stood tall in front of them, his menacing form making Jason feel small. So, Jason did what he learned was the only way to deal with Bruce over the years - piss the fuck out of him before Bruce knew how much he still affected Jason. The Batsuit pulled more shadows from the room than Jason felt should be possible, and Bruce’s stony face, the imprint of the cowl still visible, made his fists clench. 

“Explain to me how gossip precedes before casework.” Bruce said lowly, dark blue eyes swiveling between the pair. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize family news was reduced to gossip in your mind. It almost seems like you don’t _care._ ” Jason hissed, feeling the rush of satisfaction when Bruce’s jaw tightened. 

“What news, Tim?” Bruce asked cooly, broad shoulders turning to ignore Jason. Tim twisted nervously. 

“Dick and Damian are back together.” Tim said quietly. “Jason helped them...make up.” 

Dark blue eyes opened in surprise for a split second, before landing on Jason. “They did?” Bruce’s deep baritone demanded. 

Jason looked back scornfully. “Yeah, they fucking did. Sorry your dreams got crushed again. Join the fucking club. At least I _did_ something to help them.” Jason snapped, feeling the familiar surge of rage that seemed so easy to tap into while in Bruce’s presence. Jason was never one to forget. Or forgive. 

But what Bruce did surprised him, and the ever eager train of anger stuttered. Black gauntlets fell in the shadows of the cape, and Bruce stiffened. He looked awkward, and almost... _embarrassed._ His eyes were unguarded _,_ and the brief second before his mask slid on, Jason saw his mind running a mile a minute. “I see.” 

Jason gaped mockingly. “That’s it? Your favorite sons are fucking again and all you can say is _I see_ ? Do you ever _hear_ yourself?” 

“Do not put words in my mouth.” Bruce growled, his temper barely kept at bay. 

“That’s all I can do! You say fucking nothing!” Jason snapped, standing up from the motorcycle. Bruce glowered back, dark eyes furious. 

“I am not having this conversation with you, Jason. I appreciate your efforts to reconcile the two. That is all.” Bruce finally said, turning to walk towards the showers. 

Jason swore, mouth open to yell, when Tim’s hand pulled at his jacket. “Hey. Look, give me ten more minutes with this case and then we can go drink or something equally stupid. Yeah?” Tim asked, and Jason glared at the back of Bruce’s head getting smaller and smaller. 

“Fine.” Jason grunted, rolling his shoulders back. Tim stepped back to the chair, and Jason sat heavily on the motorcycle again. He watched Tim’s delicate fingers fly across the keyboard, almost as fast as Bruce’s, and the sound of the keyboard keys relaxed him more than he’d ever admit; it echoed of years prior when he wore red and yellow and green, when every night was another day to try and step into boots that could sit next to Bruce’s, could maybe try and fill Dick’s empty space. (He didn’t.)

As he rolled the motorcycle back and forth and he felt the last tendrils of anger slipped away, Jason found that he had overlooked a very important message in their exchange. He’d basically been _thanked,_ albeit in the shitty Bruce way, but it was still nice. And, Jason had to admit, it was encouraging to see that perhaps the absolute fuck up of the past couple months were in Bruce’s mind, at least a little bit less desirable than seeing Dick and Damian together again. It was weird to feel so defensive over something he wasn’t even part of, something he’d always _wanted_ to be a part of, but maybe that was just what it felt like to know what the right thing was to do and the need to stand by it. He had spent too much time trying to help them, gotten virtually no positive reinforcement until the very end - and then, only by those involved, to not feel like this was something that needed to be recognized and respected, rather than hidden in the shadows. 

Tim stood up abruptly, the blue light making his red suit purplish, and he seemed far more put together than earlier. The steady hum of work seemed to do that to him, or, if Jason knew Tim at all, he probably was collecting himself to process the news better. Whatever, either road led to him finally having a _good_ night out with someone who bore the same heartache he did, and it was about damn time to do something for _himself_. 

“Okay, let me change and we can go.” 

“Gonna bring the heels to the strip club? Maybe the kitten pumps? They do so make your calves stand out.” Jason said innocently, a smirk pulling on his mouth. “Or perhaps the -” 

Tim glared at Jason, his sharp face flat. “I would make kitten pumps work. You wouldn’t. Now, let’s. I would like to forget everything you’ve ever said to me and then some.” 

  
  


\---

The Gotham sun pooled in the bedroom, the white waves of light bearing down on dark shores, chasing away every relentless dark night before. Sketches fluttered softly against the walls, the crisp air let in from sharp cracks from the window. Clothing laid in a pile at the bottom of the bed, the sheets crumpled. 

A tea kettle whistle pierced through the air, and Dick rolled over fitfully, slowly pulled into waking. He jolted, remembering the events of the previous night, and he looked over quickly. The bed was empty, and Dick’s heart plummeted. _But the tea kettle…?_ Dick frowned, straining to hear outside the room, but it was silent. He was about to move to get out, his mind still hazy, but the glint of sunlight from under the pillow pulled his attention, and Dick stilled. It was the tip of a polaroid, and before he knew what he was doing, he pulled it out from under the pillow. 

Damian’s rare grin smiled back at him, his sharp features softened. Emerald eyes looked warmly up at the camera, the dark shadows that always seemed to dwell over Damian’s eyes gone. Dick wasn’t looking at the camera, his hand holding Damian’s chin, while he kissed Damian. Damian had never been all too fond of photos, especially when Dick had purchased a polaroid camera, being fond of taking photos whenever he could. At first, Damian had been fairly irritated, not wanting to look at the photos, until Dick had taken a photo of himself kissing Damian. That had initially gone poorly, until the photo popped out, and Damian had seen it. He had fallen silent, Dick’s laugh faltering into unease, until Damian touched it so gently, Dick looked at the photo again to see if something had gone wrong. 

“What’s wrong?” Dick said. 

Damian turned, a rare smile on his lips. “Nothing. I just...I really like this photo.” 

“Oh.” Dick said dumbly. “Well, I take a ton. You’ve never liked them before.” 

Damian nodded, still looking at the photo. “Indeed...I do not like photos. But perhaps I quite like them with you.” 

Dick grinned, still a little confused. “You don’t like it unless I’m in it with you? Why? You’re absolutely gorgeous.” Dick tilted his head, hands finding their spot around Damian’s hips. 

Tilting his head to lay on Dick’s shoulders, Damian hummed noncommittally. “I’ve never liked a photo of myself. It doesn’t look right if I’m not with you.” Damian argued. Dick laughed, holding Damian closer. 

“You are so effortlessly beautiful, my love, in everything you do. _E_ __v_ erything. _But I don’t think it looks quite right if we aren’t together either.” 

And so Damian started to like photos of them both. Dick continued taking photos of Damian, still, but he always tried to take a photo of them together as well. Damian had never asked for a photo to be taken though, until the very polaroid Dick held in his hands. It had been taken spontaneously, almost a year prior. Snapped in the midst of several rounds of reunion sex, following a mission where Dick had been missing briefly, and it was one of the best photos they had together. Damian had gone practically feral when Dick was missing (very briefly), and once Dick had dragged himself back into Bludhaven, Damian couldn’t keep his hands off of him. Randomly, Damian had pulled away mid-kiss, mumbling that he needed something, and returned with the camera. The photo was raw - their faces were flushed, sweat dripping down from their hairlines, their hair mussed, but it was so _real_ that it had always been one of Dick’s favorites. He always knew Damian was fond of it, but he didn’t realize it was his favorite one. Dick had tried very hard to avoid all photos in their apartment, so he didn’t even notice this one had been gone. He still had a habit of ducking his gaze around certain corners in the apartment, not ready to see Damian’s happy face when he knew he was gone. _Not anymore._

Before Dick could dwell on how many times Damian’s fingers held the same polaroid, he noticed the cuff of his favorite sweater under the pillow. Tugging it gently, Dick sat up completely, sheets sliding down to pool at his waist. He raised the sweater, his chest tightening when it smelled vaguely like his old cologne, but mostly like Damian. _Ah. So that’s where you went._ Dick slid out of bed, picking up his black boxers, desperate to see Damian. And then, he saw them. 

Endless amounts of sketches, clear now in the sunlight, with Damian’s distinguished style. Dick blinked, unable to take in all of them at the same time, but they were _everywhere,_ as if he himself had lived in the walls, breathing life into the lines on the papers. He was everywhere, in the Batsuit, his Nightwing suit, his face all various ages over the years...he could be flying through the air, a blur, or still and smiling, looking decidedly delirious. Dick trailed across the room, his heart pounding, mind blazing with the realization of how many hours Damian had spent on this, with no thought he’d ever see them. Damian’s unending love that burned so bright behind closed doors, beyond the conscious eye, was one of the first things Dick fell in love with. He had never met anyone who could put _everything_ into seemingly nothing so easily. Damian’s art had always left Dick wonderstruck, because he could feel the love in each line, the devotion that eclipsed any love Dick had felt before. Dick pulled himself away, intent on making Damian _feel_ how much he loved him, how hard he would work to deserve such reverence. 

Dick poked his head out of the bedroom, eyes zipping around until he caught Damian’s sleek form in the empty living room. The cold room was more severe in the sunlight, but Damian exuded warmth, his being soaking in the light. Dick let out a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and he walked over to see what Damian was doing, a grin on his face. Damian started, eyes widening, smiling up at Dick. 

“Oh, good morning. I didn’t think you’d wake so soon, I was going to return to bed shortly. I am fond of watching you wake up.” 

Dick nodded, amused. “I didn’t forget. I missed you.” 

Damian snorted, standing up, his hands weaving around Dick. “Not more than I. Do you want tea? I made your favorite. I don’t have the brand you like, but it’s within the realm. Then we can go back to bed.” Damian mumbled, kissing the side of Dick’s neck. He untangled himself from Dick, his fingers dragging lightly over Dick’s muscles. 

Dick squeezed Damian’s trailing hand, entranced with the simplest of things Damian did, like walking to finish making tea. Damian moved so lithely, like a cat, with lean limbs and graceful, willful movements. Dick leaned back, content with watching Damian, until the snap of a pen under his foot made him look down. Leaning down, Dick grabbed the pen before it could leak out, his eye catching the paper gleaming white in the sun. Damian was writing…?

_Miss Roth,_

_I have found it harder than it should be to compose this letter, when it shouldn’t be, nor so late. I apologize for my outburst at the gala. I should not have said that to you. And while I will note I do not appreciate your flirting with Richard, I cannot say that I deserved to have him after acting like that. More, to be completely honest, I cannot fault you for your taste. I now do not believe Richard would have shared anything with you unless you were worth his while. Thank you for helping make the man he is today. I couldn’t live without him. I know this now more than ever._

_I had heard long ago from Richard you were quite fond of certain forms of gothic literature. A very distinguished genre. To show my good faith, might I recommend works by Radcliffe or Lewis. I am fond of those myself, and will attach them. I know very few who indulge in a similar taste in literature. I wish you the best, and I bear very minimal ill will towards you. However, I insist you do not flirt with him again. Thank you._

_Regards,_

_Damian Wayne_

Dick’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Damian Wayne _apologizing_ all pretty and wrapped up in a bow? To _Raven?_ That night felt eons ago now that he had Damian back. Dick still didn’t feel like Raven had been actively flirting with him, but he supposed he might be more trusting with her than others would be. It didn’t matter anymore. But Damian apologizing to _Raven? Holy shit._ Dick turned, letter in hand, face open with surprise. “You didn’t have to do this! At all, love, truly.” 

“What?” Damian turned, curious. “Oh. I didn’t intend for you to see that.” At that, Dick looked apologetic, putting the letter down quickly. 

“No, I meant - I didn’t want you to think I did it just for show. I have struggled with writing a letter to her, but strangely, I found it much easier this morning, being I had you in my bed and all.” Damian smirked playfully, bringing tea over. “Of course, _many_ things seem much easier now. But yes, I have since wanted to apologize. It was less appealing than apologizing to you, but I supposed that’s why it must be done.” 

Dick’s smile softened, and he pulled Damian closer, tugging him down to sit down with him. Dick sat against the wall, the sunlight making his hair glow yellow, long legs bracketed around Damian’s smaller frame. 

“You don't have to, honestly. You are a better man than I.” Dick said quietly, remembering how quick to anger he was at the thought of Damian with someone else. _Thoughts for another day..._ Calloused hands roamed over Damian’s smooth bare thighs, who looked back fondly. “Hey. I want to make sure. You still mean what you said last night? I did kinda drop in and disrupt things.” Dick said seriously.

Damian snorted, choking on the tea. “Are you joking?” 

Dick stared back, shaking his head. Damian’s eyes widened in surprise, the white sun illuminating his emerald irises. He placed the tea down in between them, his fingers intertwining with Dick’s. 

“Surely you are not this obtuse, beloved. When have I ever _not_ wanted you? Of course I meant what I said. It doesn’t matter if I had said it five years ago, or yesterday, or in a thousand years. I only want you. I’ve only ever wanted that.” 

Dick’s chest loosened completely, his heart singing to hear such plain words like that out in the open once more, and he squeezed Damian’s thighs affectionately. “And I you. I just wanted to make sure. I owe you everything.” 

Damian tilted his head back, considering the man before him. “You _are_ everything. Now, drink your tea. I want to have tons of sex.” Damian ordered, a smile tugging on his lips. Dick grinned, going down to grab the tea. He lifted it up, tasting it, and quickly hid his initial disgust. 

Damian shook his head, exasperated. “I am aware that it’s horrid. I had to pick the tea leaves myself. Couldn’t afford to purchase them. But I don’t want to hear about it.” 

“I’d never.” Dick continued to sip, blue eyes shining over the mug. Damian shifted restlessly, his eyes razing over Dick’s almost naked body. The comfortable silence seemed very finite; Dick recognized the wanton fire in Damian’s eyes. _One, two, three..._

“Alright, that’s enough. I want to go _now._ ” Damian decided, pulling Dick up with him, who laughed. 

Dick followed, heart pounding at the promise of sex, but suddenly it felt like he was forgetting something - something from several days ago, unlocked with the idea of being _together_ again, that Dick had hidden away. _What was it?_ It had only been painful when he had heard it, but now things were different. _Sarah, right? And Damian...ah, that's right._ Dick hoped Damian would understand the meaning behind what he was about to ask. _L_ _et’s try again._

“I just remembered. I recently got another...another flyer. From that woman before - Sarah. Our neighbor. She slid another flyer under the door. For the circus. I'm not sure when, but soonish. I just...I hadn’t thought about it because I wasn’t going to you know, _go._ Alone, that is. But maybe you would like to? Together?” Dick asked quickly, embarrassed all of a sudden. “I know I ruined the last chance to go, and I...well. I want to make up for it. Only if you’d want to go, of course. We really don’t have to.” Dick added hastily. 

Damian blinked, sure that _somehow_ the life he was living now was some sort of lucid dream, and he really was blacked out alone in his dark apartment. 

“Beloved, I would go to a dumpster fire with you and somehow find a way to enjoy it. I would love to renew my previous proposal. You already know the answer is yes. Now, _please._ We may consider details post-coitus.” Damian tugged Dick towards the bedroom, the sunlight pouring in dancing around the sharp muscles of their bodies. 

Dick laughed, relieved and invigorated, hands going to pull at Damian possessively. There were so many things to say and do, but the joy was savoring them one at a time, because every second felt incomparable, like he had stolen a little piece of heaven and he had gotten away with it. The bed laid out in front of them, the polaroid and sweater made obvious, and Damian didn’t even care about his blush, because he was _there_ with _Dick_ and the feeling of euphoria was unlike any before. Even of all the times and memories he had with Dick, the _years_ of love, it wasn’t the same. It felt so much deeper, as if he uncovered this infinite ocean of feelings that cut deeper than anything else before, so dark and abysmal, every moment had cast him farther from the gates. And the farther he fell, any glimpse of light fell fainter, had become more twisted with the desperation to hold on. But like Dick’s sweater, no matter what Damian did, the smell would leave, Damian’s replacing it, and deeper was he exiled to try and recover certain untainted joys. 

And yet, just when Damian had accepted his descension, there was another side, where he could breach the surface and breathe in life once more. But this life was _different._ Because he knew now exactly how deep his love ran, how enduring the emptiness of Dick felt within Damian’s very bones...Coming back together was _transcendent._ The drag of oxygen flooding back into his body, after drowning for so long...he couldn’t find any other word to articulate his world being reborn anew. 

Damian turned, time slowing as he looked back at Dick, whose rebellious hair glowed, all of his perfect body's sharp planes pulling the sunlight greedily. Damian smiled, feeling out of breath. “I know what the word is now. Falling back to you is transcendence.” 

Damian's eyes shined, wide and open, dark features flushed with an amber glow, black hair softer in the warm light. And Dick couldn’t help but remember the first time he told Damian he loved him, when the very same face looked back at him, only a little rounder and younger. Damian would always be the ever-mixed point in his life, enduring forever, in the way he had _always_ wanted _,_ since he was very young. That _true_ love feeling, that he almost lost forever. 

“Oh, my darling. I transcended the day I met you.” 

  
  
  


\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah! the end. I really hope you liked it, because there are parts that felt really special to me to write. and of course, it isn't ever perfect, not by a long shot, but I know i would need to sit on a fic for several months to really be satisfied with it, and I should do that one day, but not yet. 
> 
> so they are back together! I don't think either ever truly could accept the other being gone. imo, damian would just become a ghost of himself, and I think dick would go mad. i also think that dick deals with jealousy far worse than even damian does, but I spared dick in this story from revealing that (rottencloset has made that belief very clear to me, all credits to them for such beautiful ideas) regardless, I made this really dramatic, but I can't seem to regret it. i could go on about them forever, but I'll bother you all in the comments instead. 
> 
> I am so very grateful for all you who indulged me on my little angst power trip lmao. love you all, and happy almost new year! I hope to see you in the next one ;) in the meantime, feel free to join me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/disgruntledwing), where i post a lot of my art and follow a lot of really great people. catch you all around! <3


End file.
